BioShock: Fire in the Sky
by Jack Cross
Summary: My name is Sam Roberts. I was just a normal guy, living a normal life, doing normal things. Normal that is, until those infernal twins chose me against my will. Now, to repay the debt I owe them for saving my life, I'm headed to a place I never knew existed, to find a girl I don't think I can ever forget.
1. Ascension

**Hello there, Internet! I know I really shouldn't be uploading a brand new story when I already have so many in progress, but this has been something I've wanted to do for a long, long time, so suck it up. Now I know that the whole "OC rather then Booker goes to Columbia" style of story is kind of a dead horse that's still being beaten (at least three that I've read, all of them very good), but frankly I want the chance to offer my own take on it.**

 **Hopefully you guys will get a kick out of it, or at the very least get your fill of Bioshock for the day.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Bioshock or anything related to it.**

 _How does one do it? How does one guy summon the courage to face an entire army on his own? To stare down wave after wave of foes and not lose himself to an all consuming wave of fear and panic? Honestly, in my personal opinion, it was because I was too stubborn. I had not come this far, made it so close to the end of this just to be stopped now. I couldn't do that to myself._

 _I couldn't do that to her._

 _Her._

 _All for her._

 _That was what I was thinking when I faced the onslaught of those men in red. Even as their troops, both mechanized and flesh swarmed the deck, even after their airships flooded the sky, I stood defiant because of her. I readied my sky hook and my revolver, a blazing fire burning in my chest. I had already lost her once, I would see myself in hell with all of these bastards before I lost her again._

 _With a furious battle cry bellowing from my throat, I charged my enemies, knowing that if I was to fall here, I would take a few of them with me._

 _But...I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I?_

 _ **Three Days Earlier.**_

I awoke to the sound of stormy waves crashing upon rocks. Well, that and one of said waves washing over me and nearly drowning me. I rolled over off my back onto my hands and knees, coughing and sputtering sea water as I went. I barely had time to react as another wave slammed into me, forcing me face down against the bare rock.

 _'Climb, dumbass! Get out of the reach of the surf before you get washed away!'_

I clawed at the stone as I pulled myself upward, half blinded thanks to the salt stinging my eyes. When I felt I had crawled a decent enough distance, I paused to run my hand down my face, trying to clear my vision of some of the water. The first thing I noticed was that the rock I was on had a rust tint to it, and it was weathered by years of waves battering against it. The second thing I noticed was the rain that was pelting against me.

Before I go any further, let me clear up somethings so there's no confusion. My name is Sam Roberts, I am a six foot even nineteen year old kid from Wamego, Kansas, and honestly the last thing I remembered up until this point was nodding off in the back seat of my cousin's jeep as we headed out for a camping trip.

With my last known location being a landlocked state, you can understand my confusion at suddenly being nearly drowned in the sea.

Sitting up, I took a better look at my surroundings. Above me towered a massive white tower. A lighthouse to be exact. I could easily see the beam of light against the black storm clouds above as it circled the tower. To my left was a half sunken rowboat trapped in the surf, and just beyond that a small dock with a fishing hut at the end of it.

Lightning flickered through the sky as I caught a glimpse of something on my left palm, the hand which I had used to wipe my face. There was a streak of crimson red down my hand. Blood. Confused, I looked my hands over for any cuts or scrapes, but found nothing. My hands ran over my head in a growing panic, maybe I had cracked myself really hard but just hadn't noticed the pain yet?

I forced myself to remain calm as I felt everywhere, forehead, chin, cheeks, and jawline. Finally, I located the source of the blood. I had been bleeding from my nose, although the flow had long since stopped and it was mostly dry by now. Gingerly wiping away what was left of the blood, I stood and looked about.

The gray sky and sea combined to blot out anything that may have been on the horizon. But the fishing hut had an electric light on it, so that meant there had to be some other form of civilization besides the lighthouse nearby.

Not trusting the look of the waves, I climbed the plank stairs that led up to the lighthouse, taking them slow so I didn't slip and fall. Reaching the top of the stairs, I realized that the roar of the stormy sea seemed to die off a little. Only the patter of rain was left now, with the crash of the waves as a distant backdrop.

I dipped my hand into my jean's pocket and fished out my phone, eager to try and get a call out, or at least use it's features to figure out where the hell I was. Nothing but disappointment filled me as I realized that the small piece of technology was waterlogged beyond recovery. With a bitter sigh, I slipped the now useless device back into my pocket.

Some lobster cages were piled to the right of a pair of wooden double doors, definite sign that someone lived here. From what I could gather, the lighthouse had been built upon a small island, which meant I was probably stranded until the storm let up. But now I could see the distant outline of a coast in the gray gloom, beyond the fishing hut and the dock.

A million questions and absolutely no answers crashed though my head as I banged my fist on the door.

"Hello?" I called out as I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Relief flooded my ears as the noise from the storm and sea seemed to disappear on the inside. The first thing I noticed was an iron green column standing in the middle of the room. A table with a washbasin, a few towels, and a lit candle sat at its base directly in front of me. To my left was a large pile of rope and more lobster cages, while to my right was a set of spiraling metal stairs that led to the next floor. I could hear what sounded like singing coming from that direction.

Walking to the basin, I looked downward and saw my reflection staring back at me. My black hair was cropped close to my head, and my face was clean shaven. Even as water droplets distorted the image, I could still see the remnants on my upper lip from my earlier nosebleed. Grabbing one of the towels next to the basin, I proceeded to dry my head and face off to the best of my ability. It wasn't much, considering that I was soaking wet, but it was better then nothing. As I threw the towel down, I looked up at the framed saying that hung above the basin. It looked hand stitched, like something my grandmother would do.

 _ **OF THY SINS, SHALL I WASH THEE**_

"Have fun with that, pal," I muttered as I turned toward the stairs. I quickly paused in confusion. I may not have attended church every Sunday, but I still believed in and respected God. So why was I suddenly so hostile? I shook my head and quickly cleared it from my thoughts. I had more pressing matters at the moment then a personal theological debate. At the base of the stairs hung another sign, with the same design as the first.

 _ **FROM SODOM, SHALL I LEAD THEE**_

"Is anyone here? Hello?" I called as I began to climb the stairs. My footsteps made a metallic clank as as I climbed. At the top of the stairs, I realized that I was in a living quarters. A roll top desk, grandfather clock, nightstand, bed, radio, sink, and stove were all visible along with a few tall windows.

Standing on my tiptoes, I looked out through the window that was immediately to my right. Instantly I grew excited, I could see the lights of a town on the coast. Looking over to the desk, I spotted an old fashioned candlestick phone next to a typewriter. If there was a town, I could call for help, or at least find out where I was.

I picked up the phone and held the ear piece to my ear, just like I had done in my grandparents basement and in the props room behind stage at school a thousand times before. The only thing I heard was an electric hum. I jiggled the stick a few times, but still could only get the faint hum. The line was dead.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself before setting the phone down. Above the desk was a large map of the continental U.S. Like everything else in the room, it was old fashioned, depicting several rail lines rather then interstates. A red sting was held to the map with a series of pins. If I had to guess, it depicted the route of something.

It started in upper New York state, headed across the Great Lakes to Chicago, veered southwest to Saint Louis, crossed Missouri and Kansas to Denver, Colorado. From there, it headed southwest again to a point in eastern Arizona before it suddenly turned east to Amarillo, Texas. From Amarillo, it headed southeast to a point along the Arkansas/Louisiana boarder before heading due east to a spot in Georgia. Then it suddenly turned northeast, heading across both the Carolina and Virginia to Washington D.C. From the Capital, it headed to the coast before winding its way up to Maine and then circling back into New York, completing its course.

A note was pinned to the map over Bermuda and part of the Bahamas. _'Be Prepared. He's on his way. You must stop him. -C.'_ On the wall next to the map was the schedule of something called Columbia. I took a half step back, flooded with confusion. Was I the 'he' the note was referring to? If so, how did whoever 'C' was know I was coming when not even I knew?

A glint of brass caught my eye from the table, near the typewriter. It was a fine, polished wooden box was a brass stamp on the lid. Engraved in the brass, in bold letters, was my name. Samuel Thomas Roberts. Either the lighthouse keeper and I had the exact same name, or this had been left here for me on purpose. Opening the box, I found a folded note addressed to me, a C96 Mauser, a black and white photograph of a girl that looked to be about my age, a silver skeleton key with the image of a bird on one side and cage on the other, a post card from some place called Monument Island, coordinates to some place in New York City, a sketch card depicting a scroll, key, and a sword, and several silver coins.

"What's up with this place and antiques?" I asked no one in particular as I sat the pistol on the desk and opened the note.

 _'Mr. Roberts._

 _We understand that you must be brimming with questions right now, but the important thing for you to do is stay focused on the task at hand. Know this: we saved your life. You may not recall the event at this time, but you will eventually. In order to repay us for saving your life, and to be able to return to your home and your family, you must find the girl and bring her to us. Unharmed. Inclosed in the box is everything you will need to get your journey started._

 _Good Luck._

 _-R &R. Lutece.' _

Setting the note aside, I looked over the contents of the box again. The picture of the girl wasn't a good one, as she was mostly turned away from the camera. But it was enough to get an idea of what she looked like. The coins were roughly the size of a Morgan Silver Dollar, but it wasn't any currency that I had ever seen. One side depicted a crossed scroll, key, and sword, while the reverse depicted an angel holding out the three items with the word Columbia above it.

"Might be worth something," I said to myself as I flipped the coin in the air and listened to the clear ring it gave off. Who knows, it might be real silver and I could use the cash to buy a new phone. Carefully pocketing the rest of the items from the box, I picked up the Mauser and gave it a quick look over. For an antique gun, the damn thing looked brand new.

"Gotta be a replica," I muttered as I slid the magazine out and looked the bullets over once before sliding it back in. As I turned and looked across the room, I took notice of the mess for the first time. Pots, pans, broken plates, various bits of food, and a table turned on its side rested at the base of the next set of stairs leading upwards. Blood was spattered on the table, as well as the next framed saying that waited next to the stairs.

 _ **TO THINE OWN LAND, SHALL I TAKE THEE.**_

I cocked the pistol and held it at the ready before I began to climb the stairs. It was obvious some kind of struggle had happened here. About halfway up the stairs, a bloody hand print was stained on the wall, along with a few stains on the railing. At the top of the stairs sat a bookcase that looked like it had been shoved from its place and had almost taken a tumble down the stairs. Books were scattered about the landing, and the window at the top was cracked like something had been slammed into it.

As I turned to look at the room I was in now, my felt a chill enter my veins. The blood trail led to a pool of blood at the feet of a body tied to a chair beneath a single light. There was a bag over the man's head, along with a single bloody red spot in the middle. The various tools that sat on the tables on either side of the body told me that they had tortured the poor bastard before shooting him in the head.

"Shit..." I whispered as I felt myself grow a little queasy. The sight of blood had never bothered me, and I had been to enough funerals that neither did dead bodies. But this was my first time seeing someone like this. Needless to say, its nothing like the movies or video games. The note that was pinned to the man's chest didn't help matters either.

' _Don't Disappoint Us.'_

Was this encouragement from my 'savors', or was this the work of 'C'? I didn't know, and I didn't really care. I had a loaded gun in my hand, there was no way I was gonna wind up strapped to a chair with my brains blown out. Turning away from the body, I walked across the room to the next set of stairs. Yet another framed sign hung at the base of the stairs.

 _ **IN NEW EDEN SOIL, SHALL I PLANT THEE.**_

"Why do I get the feeling that this isn't the stairway to heaven?" I asked myself as I paused and looked back at the body. I then realized my wording and cringed at the reference I had unwittingly made. The climb led to the top of the lighthouse, right outside of the light itself and back out into the rain. I shivered once as I looked about. Aside from the dead guy back downstairs, there was no one to be found anywhere.

The door that led into the light chamber was interesting though. It had an angel with outstretched arms over three brass bells. Looking closer, I realized that there was something engraved into each of the bells. A scroll, key, and sword.

"I've seen this before," I said before digging in my pockets. I found the note card that had the three symbols on it. Next to the scroll was a x1, while the key and the sword had a x2. I rang the scroll bell once and was rewarded with the light above the bell activating.

 _'Well, curiosity may have killed the cat, but you're not a cat, Sam.'_

I rang the key bell twice, and repeated the process with the sword. All three lights above the bells were lit up. But nothing was happening. The door didn't unlock, or open, or even so much as give a hint to opening.

Then what sounded like a fog horn echoed through the storm. A red light shined down through the clouds with the horn, illuminating the area whenever the horn sounded. I looked at the sky completely dumbfounded. If a flying saucer appeared, I was pressing the pistol to my temple and praying that this was all a dream before I pulled the trigger.

The horn echoed my ringing of the bells, one, two, and two. After a moment, I heard the growing sound of electricity, followed closely by a low clunk. Turning, I realized that the light had stopped it's turning and was now flashing back with the same color and number of tones. The lighthouse and whatever was in the sky were signaling each other.

The horn in the sky repeated its tones again, only this time on the final tone, I was rewarded with a bell ringing and the door opening. Inside, the light had retreated into the ceiling, reveling a red velvet barber style chair. I cautiously stepped inside out of the rain and looked about the room. The only thing visible was the chair itself, everything else was bare. Whomever had designed this obviously wanted me to sit in the chair.

"Okay, what's the catch? I sit in the chair and Sweeney Todd bursts out of the floor to slice my throat?" I asked. I wasn't really expecting an answer, and I never got one. But seeing as how I had come this far on curiosity, I might as well go a little further.

 _'Only live once, Roberts.'_

Securely tucking the pistol into the back of the waistband on my jeans, I cautiously stepped forward and climbed into the chair. It was surprisingly comfy, the fabric felt just right, the head rest cradled my head just right, and the foot plates were at the perfect angle.

And then the cuffs slammed shut over my wrists.

"I knew this was a trap," I said to myself as I strained against the restraints. The chair began to rotate as panels on the floor began to lift up. Sections of metal rose from beneath the panel and came together around me, sealing me in some kind of chamber.

 _"_ _Make yourself ready, Pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard,"_ said a female automated voice. Okay, I didn't like the sound of that. The metal sections finished their sealing with a hiss of steam as the chair came to a halt before a small window. I wasn't going to panic, until the chair suddenly tipped forward, and I found myself starring at four rocket engines just below me.

I felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers as one after the other, the engines began to ignite. Forget being tied to a chair and tortured, I was about to launched like a fucking bottle rocket!

 _"_ _Ascension."_

"No, no not fun anymore! Let me out!"

" _Ascension in the count of Five."_

"No, no, no!" The chair rightened itself out and I found myself before the window again.

 _"_ _Count of Four."_

"No, no, not good!"

 _"_ _Three."_

"Somebody stop this thing!"

 _"_ _Two."_

"NO, NO, NO, ABORT, STOP!"

 _"_ _One."_

"...fuck." I felt myself pressed into the seat by the forces of gravity as the engines fully came to life and hurdled me skyward.

 _"_ _Ascension. Ascension."_

I watched as the coastline faded into the milky gray clouds and before long I could see nothing but the clouds outside. It was a real struggle to keep the panic in my chest from setting in. There had to be a safe way out of this. If not, what was the point in sending me after this girl?

 _"_ _Five Thousand Feet."_

Okay, screw calm. Panic it was.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" It was like my brain had gone into shutdown mode and that was the only word it could remember. My knuckles were snow white I was gripping the chair so hard.

 _"_ _Ten Thousand Feet."_

 _'Look at the bright side, at two miles up, your heart will give out from fear before you ever get anywhere close to the ground.'_ Oh great, now my conscious was being a morbid smart ass. So nice I had that to deal with in my final moments on this green Earth.

 _"_ _Fifteen Thousand Feet."_

"I hope you fuckers installed a parachute or something!" I shouted at no one. At this point, I was so blinded with panic that I was amazed that I hadn't soiled myself. The engines suddenly shut down, sending the rocket through one final cloud bank and into shining daylight.

 _"_ _Hallelujah."_

The view I saw was the absolute last thing I ever expected to see. It was a city, a flying city. Perched right here on the top of the clouds like some kind of fairy tale.

"Wha...?" I asked, baffled at the sight. It was like I was looking at heaven. A zeppelin passed close to me as I gently drifted downward. As I passed a church steeple, I noticed a flag flying proudly in the breeze. It had the red and white stripes of the American flag, but it rather then stars over blue in the corner, it had a blue shield with a single star in the center. I didn't have long to ponder this as I drifted down further, passing a massive bill board on the side of the church depicting an older looking man with white hair and a beard.

"Father Comstock, our Prophet?" I asked, reading the words. Maybe that's who 'C' was? From the looks of things he was the one who was in charge. Or was this place's version of Jesus. Or both.

The rocket landed on a rooftop with a bump before beginning a descent into darkness. Looking back, if I had put all the pieces that I had encountered so far together, I would have known the truth, and probably thrown myself over the side of a building the first chance I got just to try and get away. This wasn't heaven. This, was Columbia.

This was hell, suspended at twenty thousand feet in the sky.

 **And there it is, the intro is done! I don't mean to sound like a review whore, but I am one. So please, please drop a review or a PM and let me know what you think!**


	2. Columbia Raffle and Shootout

**I'm back, with a new chapter! Sam is in Columbia now. How will he handle it? Let's read and find out:**

The first thing feeling I got as my little pod of horrors descended through the building on a small elevator was this weird religion-meets-steampunk vibe. Maybe it was the gears and other various bits of clockwork, maybe it was the words lined up so that sunlight shone though them as you passed. Maybe it was both.

Either way, when the rocket finally reached the bottom, I felt shell shocked. The panel with the window released and retraced, and the restraints that held my wrists to the chair released. I slid out of the pod like a man turning to jello. My hands shook and my legs wobbled so bad that I forced myself to sit down before I fell down.

I can handle many things. Waking up almost drowning in sea water? Piece of cake. Dead body in a lighthouse? Morbid, but nothing I can't handle. Being strapped to a chair and launched twenty thousand feet into the air with little to no warning? I'll need a moment to process this and gather my wits.

The room I was in had a very church like feel to it. A massive stain glass window stood across from me with sunlight pouring through it, depicting the man with white hair standing before a crowd and pointing toward a city in the sky. Above it was the phrase: _'AND THE PROPHET SHALL LEAD THE PEOPLE TO THE NEW EDEN'._

Burning candles lined the base of the window, and the floor was covered in ankle deep water. To my right, a waterfall cascaded out of the wall and onto the floor like an uncontainable fountain. Walking down the stairs, I stepped into the water without hesitation. My shoes were still sogging wet from the lighthouse, so a little more water wasn't going to kill me.

As I slowly turned to my left, away from the waterfall, I realized that I could hear singing. It was an old song, I mean very old. Something we had sung at church a few times, but the name of it escaped me. Sloshing forward a little, I found myself face to face with a massive statue of Comstock. So many candles burned around the base that it gave the room a golden smokey haze.

 _'THE SEED OF THE PROPHET SHALL SIT THE THRONE AND DROWN IN FLAME THE MOUNTAINS OF MAN'_ This was carved on the archway above the entrance to the room with the statue of Comstock in it. Whatever that meant, I had a feeling I was better off not knowing. Walking forward, I looked down at the stairs and frowned. The water cascaded downward over them, giving the impression that one was walking in a river or stream.

"Water, fire, and rocket hazard. The safety committees must really love these people," I muttered to myself as I pressed a hand against a wall and carefully made my way down the stairs. At the base of the statue I had two options; left or right around the statue. The way right looked normal and clear, while the way left had pink flower peddles floating in the water and leading off into a side room.

Following the flowers, I looked into the side room. It contained pews like a church, with a small alter underneath another massive stain glass window. This one, however, depicted a woman wearing a Victorian era dress and flanked on either side by a rose. A statue of the woman knelt on either side of the window with her hands folded like she was in prayer.

Turning away from what was obviously a shrine, I continued around the statue. Waiting by some stairs was a blonde haired man wearing white robes. Finally! Another human being!

"Excuse me! Where am I?" I asked as I approached. The man chuckled.

"Heaven friend. Or as close as we'll see until Judgment Day," he said, his voice being deeper then what I expected. I wanted to question him more, but I stopped myself. Asking questions made people ask questions about you in return. The pistol currently tucked in my jeans and hidden beneath my t-shirt told me that this wasn't the kind of place where you wanted people asking questions about you.

Planting my hand firmly on a stone railing, I gave the man a friendly smile and started my descent down the circling stairs. Like the others, these had water cascading over them as well. If I slipped, it was going to be a very long and painful way down. At the bottom of the stairs, the hallway opened into a massive room. Angel statues held aloft candles, showing a path forward.

As if that wasn't enough, hundreds if not thousands of floating lit candles created several separate paths leading forward. Christ, the Vatican had nothing on this place when it came to candles. The water level here rose to waist deep, and I could see other people, both men and women wading their way forward.

"And every year, on this day of days, we recommit ourselves to our city and to our prophet: Father Comstock. We recommit through sacrifice, and the giving of thanks, and by submerging ourselves in the sweet waters of baptism," came a voice over the background singing. It sounded like belonged to some old time preacher, the kind of man you expected to find waist deep in a river with a large crowd around him ready to be baptized.

I sloshed my way forward, looking to my left and right as I went. There were others making their way forward as well. Where they came from, I had no clue. But it was clear we were all heading to the same place. A small crowd was gathered before me on a set of stone stairs that rose out of the water.

Gently pushing my way past, I was eager to see what they were all looking at. The man who was speaking was standing in a pool of water before a hallway, wearing a dark priest robe. Above him was another inscription, like the others I had grown use to seeing. _'THIS PATH OF FOGIVENESS IS THE ONLY WAY TO THE CITY'._ Well, at least now I knew I had no other choice.

"Is it someone new? Someone from the Sodom below? Newly come to Columbia to be washed clean, before our prophet, our founders, and our Lord?" The Preacher said, focusing his gaze upon me. A few men who were standing before me stood to the side, and I suddenly felt very out of place. Everyone else in the circle was wearing white robes, while I was wearing blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. I stuck out as much as someone possibly could stick out.

"I just need to get to the city," I said nervously as I felt everyone's eyes fall on me.

"Get to the city? My son, the only way to Columbia is through rebirth in the sweet waters of baptism. Will you be cleansed, my son?" he asked, sticking his hand outward toward me. I frowned deeply. I had been baptized a Catholic when I was a baby, and raised in that faith my whole life. I may not have attended church every Sunday, but I was still a Catholic at heart.

Well, just because I got baptized didn't mean I would make a full conversion to whatever nut ball following they had with this Comstock guy. Seeing no other alternative, I stepped forward and took the Preacher's hand. He turned me and leaned me back before bringing his hand to his chest. At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me just how much he looked like Emperor Palpatine.

This didn't seem like such a good idea now.

"I baptize you in the name of our prophet, in the name our founders, in the name of our Lord!" he cried before placing his hand on my forehead and dunking me underwater. He held me under for a moment before letting up and allowing me to breathe. The people in the ring around us cheered as I gasped and tried to regain my breath.

"I don't know brothers and sisters. This one doesn't look clean to me," the Preacher said.

"Wait what? Ah...!" I found myself plunged underwater again, only this time he refused to let me up for air. I fought and struggled, trying to get for the surface, but the man was much stronger then he looked, and the last thing I saw before I blacked out was his gray eyes looking down at me with a sinister smile.

 _The sound of a fist banging on wood woke me up. I was back in my tiny studio apartment, sleeping on my bed like it had all been a dream._

 _"_ _Sam? Sam! I know you're in there! Open this door, right now!" I knew that voice. It belonged to Brice Reed, a kid from my class in high school who favored himself a tough guy. He was always on the front stoop of the two story apartment house, trying to sell drugs to the tenants._

 _"_ _Fuck off, Reed!" I shouted at the door as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rubbed my temples, trying to comprehend what I had just dreamed._

 _"_ _We had a deal, Roberts! Open this door or I'm kicking it down!" That set me off. I had a pounding headache, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with his crap right now. Standing, I opened the drawer on the desk next to my bed and pulled out the snub nosed .38 revolver I kept there. Was I going to shoot him? Probably not. But Brice's tough guy act had always been only skin deep. Beneath that was the soft yellow core of a coward. He'd turn and run at the first sight of the gun no doubt._

 _"_ _I told you I don't want anything you've got, not now, not ever!" I shouted as I threw open the door. What I saw beyond the door was something that still haunts me. Rather then the hallway and annoying, drug dealing wannabe bad boy I should have found, I was looking at a city skyline. New York to be exact, I recognized the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. Airships were flying over the city, firing rockets into it and setting it on fire._

 _Hanging in the sky was literally something out of my nightmares. I could see Columbia. The angel that made up Monument Island, the various buildings and bell towers, all of it illuminated by a full moon. I watched, horrified and dumbstruck as one of the airships turned towards me and fired a rocket straight at my face._

I woke up coughing and hacking, my lungs screaming for air. As I set up in a small pool, I found myself face to face with three statues It was Ben Franklin, George Washington, and Thomas Jefferson, each wearing a toga and each offering me a key, sword, and scroll respectively. I'm a major history nut, but not even I want to see the founding fathers dressed in togas.

Standing, I felt myself wobble a little and I managed to catch myself before I fell. I didn't feel like the best. Apparently nearly drowning twice in the same day takes a lot out of you. I sloshed my way forward, up a small flight of stairs and out of the water at last. Cold, wet, and tired just barely began to describe how I felt.

"Our Prophet fills our lungs with water, so they may better love the air," a man said, standing at the top of the stairs. I glared at him as I past, fighting the urge to throw him back down the stairs and show him the difference between baptism and attempted murder. Looking around, I realized I was in a garden of some sort. Rose bushes lined the pathway, hummingbirds darted about, and I passed more people in white. All of them were praying to one of the three founding fathers.

These people worshiped the founding fathers? What kind of weird ass cult was this? Maybe the whole city wasn't like this though, it couldn't be. From what I had seen on my way in, this place was quite large. They couldn't all be like this. But, then again, I've been wrong before. Oh well, say what you want, but I am never praying to one of them for anything. Just cause a city flies doesn't mean it's got it's fair share of fools.

Finding a pair of double doors, I pushed them open, eager to get away from the weird church goers. The view beyond the door was breathtaking. You could see several portions of the city floating in the distance. An airship was passing by overhead, and boxcars rode on what looked like a suspended railway line. In the center of the buildings stood another statue of Comstock, this time with his hair and coat billowing out behind him while he held aloft a sword. Man, this guy had an ego.

I walked down the street, looking about in awe and confusion. Everyone was wearing turn of the century clothing, bowler hats, dresses, Sunday suits, the whole works. They were all giving me the same look I was giving them, one that silently asked what was going on. What was with these people? It's the twenty first century, bowler hats and all this clothing hasn't been in style for over eighty years. Maybe I had stumbled upon one of those museums that brings history to life with actors that pretend to be stuck in a certain time period. A really, really, extreme museum that hung at twenty thousand feet.

Okay, forget I ever came up with that theory.

"You okay, kid?" asked a guy running a hot dog vendor. I stopped and looked at him with a tired grin.

"I look that bad, huh?"

"Nothing a hot dog and a root beer can't fix. Here, it's on the house," he said as he handed me a hotdog and a bottle of root beer. The bottle was glass and the label was really old fashioned. I had only seen bottles like this collecting dust in some old collector's garage, or the occasional antique store. Thanking the man, I continued on my way toward the statue at the heart of the square. He was right, the hot dog and the soda did make me feel better.

A building docked near the statue, a clothing store called Hudson's if the sign was to believed. I had no idea where I was, and I knew my clothing made me stand out. Might as well check the place out while I had the chance.

Stepping into the shop, I found myself face to face with a man and woman standing behind the counter. They had a box of clothing sitting before them and looked like they were expecting someone. Their appearance was so similar I figured they had to be brother and sister, twins perhaps. Both of them regarded me with blank, emotionless expressions.

"He has arrived," said the woman.

"Yes. And he appears to have handled the transition better then expected," the man added. I looked back and forth between the two warily.

"You two waitin' on me?" I asked.

"It would seem so."

"We are here to provide some aid."

"Provided you listen to what we say.

"It would be a shame if you were to come all this way."  
"And not get a chance to repay your debt." Okay, I'll admit, the way these two talked gave me the creeps. But, there was something else. Something they said...

"Let me guess, R&R Lutece, right?" The man's stoic expression broke as he perked his lip and looked at his sister with mild amusement.

"Told you he would figure it out."

"So it seems. This one's a little quicker then Dewitt."

"Indeed, perhaps there is hope yet."

"Perhaps."

"Hey, you two mind explaining where the hell I'm at?" I asked, interrupting the two.

"Why do you ask where?"

"When the delicious question is when?"

"When?" I asked, confused.

"A more proper question to ask," the woman started.

"Would be 'how do I blend in?'," the man finished before sliding the box forward. Inside the box was a pair of pinstripe trousers, a white undershirt, black shirt, denim vest, a pair of brown leather work boots, and a brown canvas messenger bag.

Taking the box, I slipped into a changing room and quickly changed clothes. Everything fit perfectly, like the clothing had been tailor made just for me. I also found a shoulder holster for my pistol, which I hid beneath my vest.

After tightening the laces on my boots, double checking to insure that the pistol was secure in its holster, and sliding the messenger bag on, I walked back out into the main part of the store. I felt a million times better now that I was in dry clothing. No matter how much they creeped me out, I was going to thank the twins for that.

The strange twins were gone, seemingly vanished into thin air and leaving the shop empty. It wasn't the strangest thing I had seen, I mean a flying city kinda took precedence over a small vanishing act, so I didn't really react with surprise. I still had things to do.

Stepping back outside onto the stairs leading into the store, I paused for a moment to get my bearings. Directly in front of me was the statue of Comstock, and beyond that on the other side of the square were some buildings. One had a blue sign on top that said 'Curt's Groceries & Meats', while the other had a billboard depicting the angel on Monument Island.

The tower protects the lamb from the False Shepard? What did that mean? More religious nuttiness probably.

Getting a move on, I circled around the back of the statue and heading for the street. The restaurant passed on my right, where a couple was talking about something called the Vox Populi. A little ways further, I passed a pair of boys playing in the water leaking from a fire hydrant. Their clothing looked like something from the turn of the century, but then again so did everyone elses' so I ignored them.

Walking on, I passed a horse drawn ice cart, only there wasn't a regular horse pulling it. The thing was white and all mechanical with the word Easter embroidered in gold on the side. Sparks flew from the thing as it rigidly jerked its knee and turned its head, imitating the movements of a real horse. No one else was staring at the mechanical horse, so I didn't either and kept moving. When in Rome, as the old saying goes.

The fast beat of drums reached my ears, and I realized that there was a parade up ahead. Blips made up to look like floats were floating past, depicting more about Comstock and the city. I realized that there was no other way forward until the parade past, so I crossed my arms and tapped my foot as I waited.

I still had a million questions, and absolutely no answers. What did they mean when they said they had saved my life? Did my family know I was gone or did they think I was dead? What was so special about this girl that I had to go and get her? Why did it have to be ME to go and get her? The Lutece, or at least I think it was the Lutece I had encountered in the store, had been anything but upfront with answers.

"All clear, good luck at the raffle folks!" called a police officer in a brown uniform as the last float passed by and a bridge rose up to fill the gap between buildings. I hurried along with the small crowd, eager to try and find Monument Island and maybe get some answers. I didn't get very far before I saw a sign sitting nearby.

"Columbia Raffle and Fair, huh?" I said as I looked the sign over. So that's what the cop meant. Then I noticed something strange, the year depicted at the base of the sign: 1912. 1912? It's 2015, why would they have it down as being 1912? I felt a twinge of nervousness and panic in my chest at the possibility of what the sign suggested. But it wasn't possible, time travel was science fiction, there was no way.

 _'Says the guy who's literally standing in the middle of a flying city.'_ Oh good, my conscious was back. I had wondered where it ran off to.

Hurrying up the stairs next to the sign, I looked about like a man on a mission, which I technically was. Spotting a man putting a newspaper into a nearby trash can, I hurried over and recovered the paper. The headlines was something about the entire city being in the middle of some kind of celebration, but it was the date at the top that held my attention.

July 6th, 1912.

My hands shook as I dropped the paper. It was true, I had gone back in time. A lot of things suddenly made more sense. The clothing, the architecture, the way some of the people talked, I was a century in the past. I had one question down, and thousand new ones to take it place. Sitting on a bench, I put my hands on my scalp before lowering my head between my legs. I took deep breaths in through my nose, and I slowly felt my panic begin to subside.

Okay, think. What did I know for sure about 1912? The _Titanic_ sank, Teddy Roosevelt gave a speech while having an open bullet wound in his chest, and that's about where the knowledge off the top of my head ended. I guess I was a few months too late to insure Jack and Rose had a happy ending, oh well.

As I regathered my wits, I noticed I could hear singing. It was a barbershop cortet standing on a small flying boat nearby. It wasn't that they were good or bad, it was what they were singing.

 _'It's 1912, there's a flying city, and these guys are singing a song by The Beach Boys. Sure, why not?'_ Standing again, I gave a small shiver and set off again. As I rounded a corner, I found myself looking at the massive angel tower of Monument Island. Digging into my pocket, I found the postcard and held it aloft so that I was doing a side by side comparison.

"Well, that's where I'm suppose to find her," I said to myself.

"Telegram, Mr. Roberts!" I jumped in surprise and looked down to find a boy holding out a piece of paper to me.

"Huh?"

"Telegram for you, sir!" I took the note and the boy gave a quick salute before running off. Who would be sending me a telegram?

 _'Roberts. STOP._

 _Do not alert Comstock to your presence. STOP._

 _Whatever you do, do not pick number seventy seven. STOP._

 _-Lutece.'_

Oh good, the twins were still around somewhere keeping an eye on me. If only the bastards would actually answer some of my questions, maybe that would make me feel better rather then a little annoyed. Sticking the telegram card into a trash can, I continued onward.

At the entrance to a set of fairgrounds, I saw a small crowd gathered around a guy showing off something called Vigors. There were posters and advertisements for the things plastered all over the place as well. What could be so special about something that looked like a glorified soda...HOLY SHIT THAT GUY HAS LIGHTNING FINGERS!

One of the demonstrators had arcs of electricity passing between his hands, while the other was juggling actual balls of fire while flames licked upward from his palms. Superpowers in a bottle? Hell yes! Where do I sign up? The fairgrounds contained all kinds of things besides the Vigors. Hot dogs stands, shooting galleries, demonstrations of the skylines and something called a voxaphone, some kind of huge cybernetic man thing, and a pair of kids standing in a corner smoking cigarettes.

' _Ah 1912, gotta love it.'_

Finding my way through the fair was easy enough, but I quickly found my path blocked by a gate and some kind of automaton booth.

"Sorry pal, the raffle is all sold out! Entrance is reserved for dignitaries and very important personages alone!" the robot said when I tried to buy a ticket.

"Guess I'm not important enough," I said to myself as I stood back and folded my arms. I needed to think of another way around and I need to do it quick, I didn't want to be in this place any longer then I had to.

"Wanna get into the raffle, handsome?" I looked toward the source of the voice to find a pretty blonde haired girl standing in front of a booth advertising a Vigor called Possession. She was showing off a basket full of green bottles.

"Who me?" I asked, cocking my eyebrow her way. She gave me a sweet smile.

"With Possession, you can give that metal moron the slip and get into the raffle for free," she said. I eyed the bottles in her basket with caution. It could be just some snake oil thing that someone was using to scam people out of their money. But, after everything I'd seen so far, I kinda doubted that.

"How much?"

"Free samples for today, sweetie. This one won't even be widely available for another month," she said, offering me a bottle. I took it and looked the bottle over. It was a green color with the liquid inside containing like a soda and having a faint glow to it. A scantly clad woman was leaned back as the bottle's cork and a green sword through a heart was on the label.

Pulling the cork out of the bottle, I downed it all in one go. The stuff had a minty taste to it, like mouthwash, only without the burn of alcohol. My vision tunneled to wear I could only see the girl. I watched, hypnotized as she drew the outline of heart in the air with her fingers, leaving a glowing green trail behind. With her heart completed and still floating in the air, she bent over slightly and blew me a kiss. My vision pulsed for a moment before everything returned to normal.

"Whoa..." I said, shaking my head to clear any lingering effects. The girl simply giggled before I turned and focused on the booth. Thrusting my left hand outward, I watched in amazement as a faint green woman flew from my hand and into the machine.

"Well, if it isn't Assemblyman Buford! Your spot at the raffle awaits, I don't know why I didn't recognize you earlier. Odd," the machine said and the gate swung open for me. Sending a smile and a silent thanks toward the girl, I quickly slipped around the booth and through the gate.

Only to walk straight into the Twins.

"Heads?"

"Or Tales?" Oh look, they're still talking like that. The man was wearing a chalkboard over a his body while the woman held a plate. The Heads section on the board had twelve tally marks on it while the Tales had none.

"Come on, I ain't got time for this," I said, trying to push past them.

"Heads?"

"Or Tales?" they asked again, a little sterner this time, before the man tossed me a coin. I sighed as I realized there was no point in arguing about it. I flipped the coin into the air.

"Tales," I said, just before the coin landed on the plate. The two of them looked at the outcome before the man looked at the woman.

"That's new."

"Indeed. Perhaps things will turn out differently this time," the woman said before putting a tally mark down under the Tales section. With that, they turned away, still looking at the coin strangely. As they turned, I noticed that the section of board on the man's back also had a Heads and Tales section. However, only the Heads side had tally marks, and it was completely full.

Choosing to ignore that little slice of weirdness, I headed down the street at a gentle trot. No one I passed paid me any mind. I guess it was the messenger bag, they must have thought I was a courier and that I was making a delivery. Rounding the corner, I could see the angel tower of Monument Island before me. It wasn't far now, just on the other side of that raffle thing.

As I neared the raffle entrance, I took notice of a new sign. It depicted a demonic left hand with a compass rose on the back along with the phrase: _You shall know the False Shepard by his mark!_ I froze in my tracks before I held aloft my hand. There, on the back of my left hand, was the tattoo of a compass rose.

I had gotten the thing as a gift from my sister, a tattoo artist, for my eighteenth birthday. Knowing that I was soon to leave home to find my own place in the world, she had slapped the thing on the back of my hand, claiming that I would need a compass to find my way home one day. I didn't really mind it at the time, and had even grown to kind of like it.

Of course now that I saw this, I really wished you could wash tattoos off with soup and water. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued onward. Passing a fountain, I found myself standing at the top of a flight of stairs overlooking a stage area with a small crowd.

"And now, the 1912 Raffle has officially begun!" called a man wearing a top hat, brown suit, and supporting a mustache that was up on the stage. I strolled down the stairs, mingling with the crowd in hopes of slipping past to Monument Island. It was so close now.

"Mister, hey mister!" A young woman holding a basket called, waving her hand to get my attention. Groaning to myself, I turned toward her to see what she wanted. I've never been a person who liked to have much attention on them, and the whole deal with the tattoo only made things worse.

"Sorry, not a big fan of baseball," I said when I noticed that the basket she held was full of baseballs. She giggled sweetly.

"You don't need to be a fan at the raffle, silly," she said, handing me a ball. I turned it over and noticed the number seventy seven scrawled out in red.

Wait, seventy seven?

 _'Whatever you do, do not pick number seventy seven.'_

"Oh, seventy seven. That's a lucky number, I'll be rooting for you," the woman said with a hint of flirtation in her voice before she walked away. I couldn't shake the feeling of something not being right. It was the kind of feeling you get when you know something is about to go horribly wrong, but you have no idea what or how.

"Bring me the bowl! Is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia?" called the man on stage. I couldn't help but frown at his statement, I mean sure it's 1912, a different time and all that, but it's still something I wasn't use to hearing everyday.

A young blonde woman with an ornate bowl walked across the stage and the man dipped his hand in before pulling out a card. She walked back to her place off stage as the man held the card aloft.

"All right then, the winner is: Number Seventy Seven!"

Shit...

"Over here, over here, he's the winner!" cried the girl who had given me the ball. Well, so much for blending in. The whole crowd was looking at me now.

"Number Seventy Seven, come and claim your prize: first throw!" the man on the stage said as he stepped to the side. The curtains on the stage rose to reveal a black woman and a white man tied to a pair of posts. I was so stunned that I froze in place, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of shock and growing horror.

Never once in my life have I been a racist. Of the few times I have been accused of that, I've always responded that I hated everyone with an equal amount of loathing. But I've never been a racist. Hell, I even had a black girlfriend in high school. How's that for breaking racial bounds?

The woman was begging for mercy, while the man was trying to take the blame all on himself and spare the woman. I held up the ball in my hand and looked at it with a new found sense of horror. This wasn't a raffle, this was a stoning. Looking away from the ball, I looked the couple in the eyes, and I could easily see the terror contained within.

"Come on, are you gonna throw it? Or are you taking your coffee black these days?" the man on the stage asked. That lit a fire in my belly. I narrowed my eyes at him as I tossed the ball once into the air.

"Black, with no cream or sugar, you mustachioed fuck," I muttered to myself as I drew back and prepared to throw the ball at him.

"Wait!" A strong hand stopped me from throwing the ball, and I suddenly found myself being held by two police officers. The one on my left took notice of my tattoo and turned my hand so that the man on stage could see it as well.

"It's him!"

"Now, where did you get that brand boy? Don't you know that makes you the back stabbin', snake in the grass False Shepard? And we ain't lettin' no False Shepard into our flock, show 'em what we got planned boys!" the man on stage shouted. The cop holding me on the left had an evil grin as he drew some kind of device made out out of wood and metal. I watched as the metal hooks began to spin and he lowered the thing toward my face.

Time slowed as the hooks drew in close. My dad and grandad had insisted that I be trained to defend myself from an early age. Shooting, some basic hand to hand, all things I would need for a decent self defense. They had always told me that if it ever came to the point where my life was in danger, just let my mind go blank and allow the training to take over.

My mind went on autopilot as I tossed the baseball into the air. The officer holding my right arm was distracted by the ball, loosening his hold on me just a little bit. But that was all I needed as I tore my arm free, grabbed him by the back of the head, and shoved him into his partner with the hook. Unfortunately, neither I nor any of the cops took into consideration the still spinning hook, and he fell face first into the blades.

The cop on my left let go of me as he looked on in horror at what he had just done to his partner. Blood splattered everywhere and people screamed and ran in terror as the hooks removed the man's face. The officer operating the device quickly let go of the whole thing, allowing his now dead partner to fall to the ground.

My hand flew beneath my vest and dragged out my pistol as the cop drew a baton, clearly meaning to get revenge for his fallen partner. His eyes went wide as I aimed the pistol at the middle of his face and fired one. The shot echoed over the whole area as his head jerked back from the strike of the bullet and his now lifeless body toppled to the ground.

"Stop him! The False Shepard has come to lead our Lamb astray!" shouted the man on the stage as he sprinted for safety. I turned to find three more cops advancing on me with their batons at the ready. Without hesitation, I leveled the pistol just like I had done hundreds of times before and fired, emptying the clip and downing all three officers.

Reloading the gun, I pried the hook device from the cop's head and looked it over, taking great care not to look at the torn up remains of the guy's face. It was called a skyhook, according to a plate on the back of it, and it was meant for riding the skylines I had seen all over the place. Clipping the device to my belt, I hurried up the stairs away from the carnage towards Monument Island. I didn't know what I felt about killing those men, I didn't have the time. My heart was pounding with adrenaline, and I knew that if I didn't move I'd die.

There it was, just on the other side of a bridge. I sprinted forward I was so close now. But I suddenly found my path blocked as a metal barrier rose and the bridge between myself and the Island lowered. I kicked the barrier in frustration. To be so close, and then suddenly cut off was infuriating.

Bullets pinged off of the metal around my head, causing me to duck. I turned, dropped to one knee, and shot the man who was shooting at me twice in the chest. He fell to the ground, his own pistol clattering across the cobblestone to the base of my feet. It was almost exactly like the one I was using.

My head jerked up as I herd the sound of whistles being blown. There were more of them coming, a lot more. Grabbing up the second pistol, as well as any magazines the officer had been carrying, I hurried down into the backstage area and up the gangplank of a flying boat. More whistles filled the air as several cops passed overhead on a skyline.

On the bow of the boat sat a turret with a Vickers machine gun. I trust my hand outward, using Possession on the thing. Instantly a warning bell rang and the machine gun roared to life. I could hear the screams of dying men from the yard below. After a few moments, the machine gun fell silent as the turret no longer had any targets. Drawing the skyhook, I walked up behind the turret and bashed its head in as hard as I could. I didn't know if the Possession would wear off or not, and frankly I didn't want to take the chance of it shooting me in the back.

Jumping from the boat back onto the street, I raised by of my pistols in anticipation. Sure enough, a half dozen cops came charging at me with their batons raised and a battle cry on their lips. I squeezed the triggers on both guns, cutting them down before they even got near me. One officer rounded a corner and fired at me, forcing me to take cover behind an abandoned food cart.

Now I never have, and never will claim to be an expert on fighting and combat, but these guys were just sad when it came to training. I quickly stood and shot the man through the head, ending our little firefight. As I ran forward, I took notice of a sign pointing out an alternate route to get to Monument Island. It was better then nothing.

As I continued to run, my pistols at the ready, I noticed that most of the cops had turned and fled. I couldn't be that intimidating of a fighter, could I? I had just gotten lucky so far.

"Call out the Fireman!"

"It's the Fireman! Fireman's on his way!" What the hell were they talking about? If 'Columbia's finest' wasn't cutting it against a threat, why would you send in the fire department? What were they gonna do, hose me down?"

Reaching a gate that blocked the street, I put all my weight against the metal and began to shove. I was tired of constantly having to find another way, this time I was using brute force. As I shoved, I noticed both the air around me and the metal beneath my hands rapidly rise in temperature to uncomfortable levels.

"Gettin' hot, the hell is going on?" I asked while grunting against the gate. The metal finally gave way and I shoved my way past. I didn't have time to celebrate my small victory as a man clad in a metal suit climbed up on decorative plant holder. The air around his body turned orange with fire before he threw his arms outward.

"BURN IN THE NAME OF OUR PROPHET!" Fire exploded outward, igniting everything around him. Oh this wasn't going to end well. The Fireman threw a ball of fire at me and I dogged to the side. My back was bathed in heat as the fireball exploded. Rolling to avoid another grenade, I sprung to my feet and aimed my pistols. But a fire grenade hitting the vendor next to me sent me sprawling before I could shoot. Pushing myself upwards, I aimed my pistols right for the visor in the center of that suit of metal and fire.

I squeezed the triggers again and again as fast as I could, putting as many bullets into the bastard as I could before my guns clicked empty. The Fireman stagger backwards for a moment before exploding into a massive fireball. I threw my arms up, shielding my face from the massive wave of heat.

Sweat poured down my face as I lowered my hands and looked at the aftermath of my little battle. Fires raged all over the place, and the Fireman himself had been completely incinerated in the explosion. The only thing left, aside from the blackened remains of a skeleton, was the red bottle of a new Vigor.

"Devil's Kiss, huh?" I asked. If I could use fire like this asshole, that would be handy to say the least. The bottle had a red bare breasted woman with devil horns and hand poised as if she was blowing a kiss as the decorative top. I pulled the cork, which was the woman's head, from the bottle and drank. Imagine the all the spiciest, hottest things you have ever tasted in your life, and you still won't come close to how hot the vigor was. It didn't really have a taste, just fire once it touched your tongue.

I dropped my pistols and watched in horror as my fingers and hands turned black and then began to glow red orange like the tip of lit cigarette. Fire suddenly consumed my hands, and I screamed in pain and terror as I literally watched the flesh melt from my fingers. After a second, the flames went out and my hands returned to normal.

My hands shook as I picked my guns back up and sat to reloading them. The rocket launch was nothing compared to both watching and feeling your hands burn off. I needed a moment to sit. Up ahead of me was a large building, a restaurant of some sort called The Blue Ribbon.

It seemed a good place as any to take a breather. And Lord knows I needed one.

 **And there you have it. Next chapter, Sam meets Elizabeth. How will they interact? Will more about Sam's past be reveled? Drop a review, leave a PM, take a guess, and we'll all find out next time!**


	3. To Monument Island

For being a big fancy restaurant, The Blue Ribbon was strangely quiet and empty. Then again, I didn't really know what to expect from a place that had a fat guy in yellow pajamas riding a pig as its main emblem. I had my pistols at the ready, unsure of what I would find as I rounded the corner into the main bar and dining room.

"We have company."

"We do indeed."

Oh great. These two again. Aside from a man who was passed out at the bar, the twins were the only ones in the room. The man was busy wiping down the bar, while the woman was blocking the door into the kitchen, holding a silver tray with a beaker full of yellow liquid on top. Glancing around the room, I noticed several plates of unfinished food and drinks. The place must have cleared out once they heard the 'False Shepard' was headed this way.

"You two know how to get around," I said as I grabbed up a plate with a steak on it and quickly moved to the bar.

"We were already here," the man said.

"And we are where we're needed," the woman finished. I didn't pay them much mind as I dug into the steak in an effort to try and satisfy the hunger I had built up. Nearly being killed in at least a half dozen different manners tends to do that to a guy.

"You know, that telegram of yours could have contained a little bit more information," I said through a mouth full of food.

"We did warn you not to make your presence known," said the man.

"You're the one who chose to do the picking," the woman added.

"And the little fact that I'm this city's version of the antichrist, it never occurred to you to warn me about that?" The twins shot each other a small look of guilt, and I rolled my eyes before going back to the food.

"Would you like something to drink with that?" the woman asked, holding the platter up a little bit, offering the beaker to me. Frowning, I stood and made my way over to her. The liquid contained inside seemed to have a faint glow to it, just like the Vigors. The beaker itself had a large shield with a capital L in the center.

"I'm guessing it's not lemonade," I said as I folded my arms.

"You'll find that handy in a pinch."

"The difference between life and death." Oh what the hell. These guys hadn't led me astray yet. Then again, there's always a first time for everything. Ah, screw it, nothing ventured nothing gained. Grabbing up the beaker, I yanked the cork free and downed the liquid inside.

I was expecting some kind of flavoring, or at least the burn of some chemicals as it went down. Surprisingly, the stuff was as tasteless as water and it went down smoothly, even smoother then the soda I had drank earlier. It was the effects of the stuff where things got interesting. I heard a sudden roar in the my ears, like a gust of wind had just blown into the building. Yellow cracks filled my vision, coming together and then forming a solid tinge of yellow for the briefest instant before everything returned to normal.

"What was that?" I asked, looking at the beaker again.

"Hm, surprising," the woman mused.

"Surprising that worked?"

"Surprising that it didn't kill him." Wait, what?

"WHAT?"

"A magnetic repulsion field around one's body can come in handy," the man said hurriedly. Wait, magnetic repulsion field? That kind of stuff was science fiction even in 2015. Then again, flying city, automated machine guns, superpowers in a bottle, all in 1912? I really shouldn't be surprised by this point.

"You're telling me that I have a shield against bullets?" I asked.

"That would be an accurate description, yes," the woman said. Setting the empty beaker on a table with a shrug, I quickly made my way around to the backside of the bar. Ordinary I would totally be against stealing. But, considering the fact that every single person in this city seemed to want my head on stake, I was willing to make an exception. I quickly cleaned the cash register out and stuffed a few bottles of whiskey in my pack.

"So while I've still got you here, what did you two mean when you said you saved my life?" I asked. Looking under the bar, I found a few boxes of ammunition for my pistols. I quickly packed them in next to the whiskey. The twins looked at each other.

"His memory still hasn't recovered," said the woman.

"It will take time. Remember how it was with me, dear sister," the man replied.

"Hey. I'm standing right here, you know," I said with annoyance. I looked under the bar again, and to my surprise and delight, found a sawed down double barreled shotgun along with a few boxes of ammunition for it. I guess the owner of this place didn't trust his patrons on Saturday night.

"It won't put your mind at ease as much as you think," the man said.

"Listen, Mr."

"Robert."

"And Rosalind Lutece, at your service."

"Right, look I've had a very trying day so far and the hair on the back of my neck is telling me it's no where even close to being done, so if you two could please answer one damn question..." I said, slowly losing my temper and raising my new shotgun. Both of the twins looked at the weapon with indifference, like it a balloon animal rather then a firearm.

"If you must know, we plucked you from a point in time which you will not be missed," Rosalind said.

"Being presumed dead does tend to help in such matters," Robert added.

"So your saying my family thinks I'm dead." Neither of the twins said anything, and they didn't have to. I already knew the answer. It was probably better this way anyway, considering the fact that it was basically me versus this whole damn city at this point. Lowering the shotgun and slipping into my pack, I sighed and pushed past Rosalind into the kitchen. I'd stayed here long enough, and it was time to get moving.

Moving through the kitchen toward the back door, I found myself in a kind of storage area. Several crates and barrels lined the walls and sat underneath the windows. It was no where near as nice or fancy back here as the front part of the building was. The sound of a speaker being activated reached my ears. I quickly ducked behind some crates and looked out the window as a blue colored flying boat sailed past. I could see several men on it along with a turret.

"Blood on the streets, and what's worse is the insult! Because today is the day that marks our secession from the Sodom Below!" a woman's voice called out. I waited until the gunboat had vanished into a cloud bank before I made my way out the open back door onto a small dock. The problem was that here is where the path ended, no other buildings or bridges within jumping distance, just a sheer twenty thousand foot drop.

Looking up, I spotted shipping hook handing from a nearby building. Pulling the skyhook from my belt, I looked the device over.

"Okay, it's gotta stay attached to the lines somehow..." I said to myself as I looked the device over. Giving the lever a squeeze, I suddenly found myself being pulled through the air by the device, straight to the fright hook. Either the hooks or the skyhook was magnetized, or both. I couldn't help but grin as I swung from one hook to the next, getting a feel for how the device worked. As I reached the last hook, I noticed a man standing on the rooftop below me. He was wearing a dough-boy helmet, a blue military uniform, and had a pair of binoculars held to his eyes. He was looking for me, just facing the wrong direction.

Leaping from the hook, I found that the man made for an excellent landing cushion. He didn't seem to agree with me, but then again having a skyhook bashed into your skull tends to make you a little irritable. As I stood up straight, I realized that looking for me wasn't the only thing the soldier was doing. He was standing guard over a cache of submachine guns.

Grabbing up one of the guns, I gave the weapon a quick look over. It was fairly simple in its operation. The magazine stuck out of the side, and the charging handle was on the top next to the sights. Loading a new mag, I cocked the weapon and slung it before I began to work my way forward. This rooftop had clouds covering it, giving the place a foggy appearance.

"Who's there?" Shit, more soldiers. I could see their silhouettes emerging from the fog bank. No time on waiting for them to make the first move, it was act now or die. I lifted the gun and fired a full burst into the cloud bank. A few soldiers cried out in pain as they were struck down, while the rest panicked and ran for cover.

As I slammed a new mag home and cocked the weapon again, a high piercing screech filled the air. I looked upward just in time to see the red trail of a flare streaking skyward. Fuck, now every cop in the city knew where I was. I needed to bail, and fast. I ran forward through the clouds, keeping my gun at the ready.

The warning bell of a turret sounded, giving me just enough time to dive into a small shack for cover. I charged Possession and threw it blindly around the corner in the direction that the turret had been. Luck was on my side, as the bell sounded again and machine gun fire lit the area up. I could hear the screams of the wounded and dying as the turret mowed them all down.

Looking over the inside of the shack, I realized that this was a storage house for some kind of boiler or water storage tank. As I stuck my head back outside, the bell sounded again, and I ducked as machine gun fire tore up the area where I had just been. So Possession did wear off on turrets, good to know.

Rounding the corner again, I lined up the turret in my sights and unloaded a full mag into the machine. To my relief, the metal thing exploded into a shower of flames and scrap metal. Reloading the gun, as well as grabbing a few spare mags from the bodies strewn about the place, I made my way forward again.

Just ahead of me was another group of soldiers, beyond them a short rooftop with a pair of skylights, and then a clear jump to freedom. I noticed a slick of oil strewn across the roof at the soldiers' feet. One of them had probably knocked over a lamp or something when they heard the gunfire break out.

Summoning Devil's Kiss, I threw a fire grenade into the fray and watched most of the soldiers went up in flames. The remaining ones turned their guns on me, but I quickly cut them down with a burst from my machine gun. Just as the last man fell and my gun clicked empty, another screech filled the air as a flare shot skyward.

Without pausing to reload, I sprinted forward, trying to put some distance between myself and this place before more soldiers showed up. I was too late, as pistol shots filled the air alongside the warning bell of another turret. Bullets ripped past me as I ran, but something caught me in the left ankle, forcing me to trip and topple through one of the skylights.

I landed on a table in someone's bedroom, smashing the thing into a thousand pieces. Outside, I could hear the soldiers shouting to each other, warning that I was now inside the building. I quickly scurried back to a place along the wall between a desk and a large bed, reloading my gun in the process.

"Stay inside, and lock your doors if you can. The Prophet foresaw this day would come, and he is prepared. The answer is not in panic, but in prayer," came the woman's voice on the PA. I sat and waited with my gun pointed skyward, waiting for the soldiers to start pouring gunfire in through the windows. To my surprise, no one tried to follow me.

Sweat poured down my face and my chest heaved as I slowly got to my feet. The shield thing that the twins had given me had obviously worked. That or I was really, really lucky that I had sprinted through a hail of bullets without getting hit. Falling through the window and having the table break my fall, however, was not something that shield had protected me from. My leg and side ached from where I had landed, and I was walking with a bit of a limp now.

The doors at the other end of the bedroom led out onto a balcony, which was in jumping range of a freight hook. Slinging my machine gun, I pulled out my skyhook and cleared the gap easily before jumping to the next building. Gunshots tore up the cobblestone behind me as I landed and sprinted for cover, diving through a pair of wooden doors to my right.

Looking up, I realized that I was in a kitchen of some sort. To my surprise, there was a poster on the wall that advertised the meeting of a group called the Colombian Friends of the Negro Society. It reminded me of the old abolitionist propaganda from before the Civil War. After everything I had seen so far, this was truly a shock. As I shakily got to my feet, I realized that I could hear a man and a woman arguing in the next room.

Double checking my weapons, I realized to my horror that I had only one spare mag left for the machine gun. Both of my pistols, however, still had plenty of ammunition. So I let the machine gun dangle to the side as I readied my pistols for the possibility of a fight.

Walking through the doors, I found myself in a long room with several old fashioned printing precess. The man and woman in question were standing at the far end of the room, having their argument and had yet to notice me. I walked towards them with my pistols at the ready, and finally the woman noticed me. She gave a startled yelp, causing the man to turn and look at me as well.

"It's him, the one their after," he said, his eyes noticing the compass rose on the back of my left hand.

"I don't want any trouble," I said, keeping my pistols at the ready. The man quickly shook his head and motioned toward a hallway to my right.

"Go, they're looking for you." As if on cue, the sound of a fist banging on the door behind him reached my ears.

"Police! We're in need of your assistance!" Shit! I raised my pistols toward the door while the woman gasped again.

"They're here!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down," the man said. Keeping my guns trained on the door, I slipped around the couple and hurried down the hallway. I found myself in some kind of study, with a window looking out into the next square. Soldiers were all over the place, and there was no way I was gonna slip past unseen.

Times like this require a carefully thought out, well laid plan.

Absolutely nothing about what happened in that square even came close to resembling a carefully thought out plan. In fact, you could say that it devolved to a 'hope for the best' situation. I ran through that square with my pistols blazing and my throat blaring the most terror scream I had ever had.

They had everything waiting for me there, even a goddamn Fireman. As it turns out, however, Firemen are able to be Possessed. So after turning him on his comrades and destroying the turret that watched over the square, I sprinted toward a dark building surrounded by fog.

The place had a sword with an all seeing eye and a Latin phrase I couldn't read. I rounded a statue that depicted Comstock battling some kind of Hydra like creature, only instead of snake heads there was a black man's head, a Chinese man's head, and a Jewish man's head. The depiction at the base of the statue read: 'Comstock fights the Serpent of Nations'. As I got closer, I noticed that several of the windows had boards on them, like the place was abandoned.

Stepping inside, I was instantly hit with the smell of rotting food and bird shit. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized why. There was a large bowl full of rotting fruit. Crows sat about everywhere, along with their dung. A banner hung over the doorway, naming this as the home of something called the Order of the Raven. Judging by the tunics that hung on the walls, this must have been the home of Columbia's version of the Free Masons.

Walking forward into the next room, I found myself face to face with a statue of John Wilkes Booth, holding his derringer at the ready. On either side of the room was a banner saying Sic Semper Tyrannis. Okay, another fucked up thing in this seemingly endless parade of fucked up things. But, then again, building a statue to commemorate the man who shot President Lincoln probably made you the Grand Marshal of said parade.

As I poked around deserted first floor a bit, I learned a little bit more about these guys. It turns out they worshiped Comstock's dead wife, and blamed themselves for allowing her to die. They also prided themselves on defending 'racial purity', which meant that these assholes were more like the KKK then the Free Masons.

Finding nothing worth scavenging on the first floor, I climbed the stairs to the second. I quickly found myself standing on a balconey overlooking what looked like a small church. A mural of George Washington holding the Liberty Bell and the Constitution dominated the area behind the stage. On the stage, before a small alter of sorts stood a man wearing black robes with a full sized coffin chained to his back. Stranger still, he was being swarmed by crows, yet he didn't seem to care. Others, wearing blue robes and hoods, were marching in place on the floor below him.

"And so, the Prophet led us into Peking, where we demonstrated to the Sodom Below the true mission our Founders had given us!" the crow guy was preaching. You know, I've always wanted to break up a Klan meeting in the most inappropriate way possible. Double checking to make sure I had a full clip in each of my guns, I slipped around to the base of another statue of Booth. I was on the Crow's right, looking down over the procession. Glancing up at the statue next to me, I couldn't help but smile at the insanely idiotic thing I was about to do.

 _'Ironic and idiotic. Way to go for the double standard, Sam.'_

Bounding over the railing, I landed on the stage just behind the Crow. The entire procession fell silent as all eyes turned and regarded me.

"Hey guys, how's your health plan?" I asked. For a moment, the entire room was silent.

"GET HIM!" The Crow literally vanished into a cloud of feathers, while everyone else in the room quickly drew a club or a pistol.

"Apparently it's great!" I shouted as I raised my machine gun and fired it from the hip. I cut down more then half the group before the clip ran dry, and I quickly drew my pistols. The brave bastards that were still alive stormed the stage, but I fired my pistols as quickly and accurately as I could, cutting the rest of them down before they reached me.

I let out a breath as I lowered my now empty pistols, not believing the kind of luck I was having. The chances of these guys having more ammunition for my machine gun was slim, but I was able to pull a few clips for my pistols. I also found a small box behind the alter, which contained three beakers called Infusions.

The red one restored my health, healing any scrapes and bruises I had before my very eyes. The yellow one was a booster to my shield, and the blue one added to my Salt reserves. After downing the Infusions and reloading my pistols, I walked through a door off the left side of the stage and up a flight of stairs.

I found myself in a large office space. Roll top desks lined the area, which surprised me given the nature and use of the building so far. A radio was playing in the corner, only instead of music, the disk jockey was giving a news report.

"Shortly after one o'clock this afternoon, the scoundrel, believed now by many to be Vox Populi, began his terrible rampage. Trouble began almost instantly. Full of wrath and bent on harm, the Anarchist wounded several Columbian peacemakers, before then arming himself and firing into a crowd of virtuous fair goers. As of this hour, he is believed fully responsible for causing at least eight God fearing Columbians to meet their Maker in Heaven."

The radio suddenly went silent as I fired a single bullet through it's wooden frame. I couldn't stand listening to it anymore. No doubt, they were trying to turn even more of the city against me by painting me as someone who was attacking by choice, not defending myself. Deciding not to think about it further, I looked around and noticed an elevator sitting off to my left. I walked in, slammed my fist into the button, and then leaned back against the wall.

 _'Only eight dead? Either their count is off or you're a lousy shot, cause there's been a lot more then eight.'_

I placed my hands on my head and breathed deeply through my nose. Gee, thank you conscience, you morbid asshole. Like I really needed THAT on my mind right now. The elevator gave off a pleasant ding as the doors slid open. Taking another deep breath, I stood up straight and walked out.

I quickly found myself in a large round room, at the center of which sat a large round table. A projector was playing some film that just flashed a bunch of different images. Even over the noise the projector was giving off, I found I could hear the sounds of a solemn violin playing. It was coming from behind a door at the top of a flight of stairs on the other side of the room.

"Why do you do this? I just want to go back to my family!" it sounded like a prisoner was being held behind the door as I climbed the stairs. As I opened the door, I caught sight of a Chinese man tied to some kind of torture board. Then, halfway open, the door slammed to a sudden stop thanks to a chain. A flock of crows suddenly engulfed the prisoner, tearing into his flesh and leaving him to wail in agony.

I slammed my full weight into the door, snapping the chain just in time to see the Crow vanish into a cloud of feathers. The prisoner was already dead, his body a bloody mess, meaning there was nothing I could do. I was standing in an indoor garden of some sort. Golden cages with dead bodies sat here and there. In the center of it all was a large statue of a praying Lady Comstock.

Holstering my pistols, I reached into my pack and drew the shotgun I had recovered from the Blue Ribbon. I broke open the barrels, double checking to insure that the weapon was loaded before I walked forward with the gun raised. If I was fighting birds, I might as well use the weapon I had that was best suited against them.

"Hello, mister bird, coffin, guy? Anyone home?" I called as I walked forward cautiously. Nothing but silence and the violin music greeted me. As my eyes passed over the statue again, a smirk spread across my lips. I knew how to get this guy to come out of hiding.

"Lady Comstock dressed like a whore!"

"YOU DARE SPEAK ILL OF OUR PROHEPT'S BELOVED?!" The Crow appeared right in front of me, bringing his sword down to cave in my skull. I brought the shotgun upward, using it to fend off the strike. But the bastard was strong, very strong, and honestly I shouldn't have been surprised considering the fact that he had around with a coffin chained to his back.

The Crow planted a firm kick into my chest, sending me sprawling. Just as I raised my shotgun to blast him, he vanished into a flock of crows again. Getting back to my feet and readying Devil's Kiss, I kept my eyes pealed as I searched the area around me. A crow's screech rang out, and he reappeared before me, charging with the intent of running me through with his sword. I threw the fire grenade, which promptly exploded in his face and set him on fire.

The charging Crow staggered and wailed in pain, his charge thrown off by the sudden blast of heat. I wasted no time in raising my shotgun and squeezing both triggers at the same time. The resulting blast from both barrels sent him flying and killed him dead. I let out a sigh of relief as I lowered the shotgun. I had gotten lucky yet again.

Sliding the shotgun back into my pack, I made my way over to the Crow's body and kicked him for good measure. Satisfied that he was really dead and not faking it, I began to search him for anything valuable. I found a vile of Salts, which a quickly used, and another Vigor. This one was called Murder of Crows, and if the Fireman and Devil's Kiss had taught me anything, I had a feeling I knew what this would do.

Yanking the crow's head shaped cork from the bottle, I downed the drink as quickly as I could. Honestly the stuff was just plain nasty, like eating a snickers bar with a mouth full of blood. My vision pulsed, with darker colors like gray and black becoming more defined. A crow landed on my hand for a moment with a bit of bloody gore in its mouth. It regarded me with it's large black eyes before it took off again and my vision returned to normal.

"He's in here!" came the shout of a soldier. A small group of about four soldiers appeared around the base of Lady Comstock's statue with their machine guns at the ready. I thrust my hand outward, testing my new Vigor's abilities. Instantly a flock of crows swarmed them, leaving them screaming in pain as the birds picked at every bit of exposed skin. I drew one of my pistols and killed each of them with a head shot.

To be honest, I didn't like this new Vigor one bit. I'd seen the movie _The Birds_ as a kid, and frankly the idea of birds attacking humans freaked me out. I'd just stick to Devil's Kiss for now. After scavenging a decent supply of new clips for my machine gun, I quickly made my way out of the garden of freakishness.

Thankfully, the garden was located near this nut house's backdoor. As I stepped back out into welcome sunlight, I realized that I was much closer to Monument Island now, in fact, there was a station that led to it a short distance away.

"The False Shepard, this Anarchist, is either a dwarf or a French man with a missing left eye, no more then four foot and nine inches in height," blared the PA on a passing gunboat. While I'm not short, or French, I wasn't about to argue against these people if they insisted on getting my appearance wrong.

Holstering my pistols, I drew my skyhook and began to swing from freight hook to freight hook. There were only two men standing guard on the stairs in front of the station. I killed one by landing on him with my skyhook, and easily mowed down the other with a burst from my machine gun. Despite signs being all over the place insisting that the place was closed, I walked up and kicked the station door in regardless. After everything I had been through, this place's laws meant nothing to me.

There were soldiers gathered in the center of the station, and they hadn't noticed me yet. Spying a turret located in the center of the room, readied Possession and my machine gun.

"I don't suppose we could discuss surrender?" I called as I entered the room. Instantly the soldiers turned on me with the intention of cutting me to pieces. I let Possession fly, turning their turret against them. I felt my shield flare a few times, but I ignored it as I kept firing my machine gun, stopping only to swap out the mags.

By the time the last soldier fell dead, the turret had been shot to Swiss cheese, I was out of new mags for my machine gun, and the barrel was literally glowing red hot. I searched the bodies and collected a few new clips, but not much else in terms of usefulness. The side offices yielded some money and a vile of Salts, so it wasn't a total bust.

Walking out the other side of the station, I was looking forward to a gondola ride to Monument Island and taking a breather. On my left, the a skyline twisted like a deranged roller coaster ride into the distance while on my right a red flying boat sat at the ready. As I set foot onto the boat's deck, a bell rang twice and the automaton holding the wheel turned around.

"We're sorry to say that Monument Island is off limits, you've got to go! Workmen should proceed to the Island by means of the skyline," it said. I let out a groan. Traveling there by skyline was seriously not a way I was looking forward to. Just a nice, simple, relaxing ride was all I asked. Stepping back onto the dock, I drew the skyhook again and pressed the lever. Instantly I shot into the air and attached to the skyline.

"Whaaaahoooo!" I screamed over the wind as I twisted through the air. Okay, forget the fucking gondola, THIS was the way to travel! As I circled around to the top of a building, I found my way forward blocked by a set of boxcars. There was only one guard on the catwalk below the line, so I used him as a cushion to soften my fall when I jumped off. It didn't take long to find the controls for the breaks on the car. Giving the lever a good yank, I watched as the car rolled down the line and vanished into the clouds.

Maybe a little too eagerly, I jumped over the metal railing and reattached to the skyline. My stomach did somersaults as I rocketed down an incline and the wind burned my eyes. Perhaps I should have scavenged a pair of goggles or something. As I began another assent, I realized that there was another blockage of boxcars up ahead, and a gunboat moving into position next to them.

Spying a freight hook hanging from a nearby building, I jumped to it. I hung there for a moment as I looked for a way forward. The skyline was empty past the cluster of boxcars, and there was a freight hook within jumping distance. I quickly jumped to the next hook, but my machine gun whipped around on it's sling, and smacked me in the chest a little harder then I intended. I let out a grunt of pain as the wood and metal dug into my flesh.

"There he is!" Shit! I was too loud and they noticed me. Bullets tore up the wall around me as I jumped from the hook back onto the skyline. Instantly my fingers crushed the throttle and I was gone. I could hear the machine gun fire coming after me as I rounded the corner and went up a sharp incline. Below me was the dock to Monument Island. I was almost there.

As I began my descent down the other side of the incline, I realized that the next building the line went past had a large crowd of soldiers waiting on me. All of them were armed with machine guns and aiming my way. It didn't matter how much luck or shields or how fast I pulled the trigger. They would tear me apart before I could anything and they knew it.

A loud horn filled the air, and it seemed for a moment that time froze.

"STAND DOWN! Stand down!" came a man's voice over the PA. I jumped from the skyline and landed on the wooden platform with the soldiers, all of whom had dropped their weapons and had sunken to their knees in prayer. I drew both of my pistols as I warily approached them. This had to be some kind of trick.

"Father Washington...hear my prayer..," whispered one as I passed. Keeping an eye on them, I looked around for a means of moving forward again. The skyline was blocked with more cars, but there was another access point on the roof the building. Slipping past the soldiers and into the building, I was greeted with the sight of a black and white image of Comstock on a screen. More soldiers were kneeling before the image and bowing in prayer.

I moved past them onto a small elevator and pulled a lever. The elevator began to rise at a slow pace, and I heard the horn sound again. The image, which was plastered on the side of an airship, was replaced with an actual recording of Comstock. If he was going for the larger then life and intimidating look, he sure nailed it.

"I know why you've come False Shepard, I see every sin that blackens your soul. Munkers Creek, the card games, the killing and the stealing, and of course; Courtney. And now, to repay a debt, you've come for my lamb. But not all debts can be repaid, Samuel." The amount of information that this guy had was scary, but I wasn't about to let him intimidate me.

"You don't know me, I'm just trying to get home in one piece!"

"Prophecy is my business, Mr. Roberts, as blood it seems is yours. Do you know why these men so willingly die for me? Because I have seen their future in the glory, and hence they are content. What brought you to Columbia, Samuel? 'Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt'? This will end in blood, Roberts. But then again, it always does, doesn't it? It always ends in water and blood." My head suddenly flared with a massive migraine, and blood rushed from my nose. I could hear faint screams and echoes, my cousin's voice calling to me.

"You have come to lead my lamb astray, but thy crook is bent, and thy path is twisted! Go back to the Sodom from whence you came!" The elevator finally reached the top, just as the airship projecting Comstock sailed out of view. I ran past a few more kneeling soldiers and into a brick hallway, following signs that pointed toward the skyline.

"Go back!" The wall before me suddenly exploded outward. I slid to a halt, throwing up my hands to protect my face from flying debris. As the dust cleared, I realized what had happened. The airship had fired on the building, and demolished the only way to the skyline. Looking about in a frantic notion, I spotted a freight hook hanging from the side of the airship.

If I couldn't get to Monument Island via the skyline, I'd take an airship.

Leaping from the building, I let my skyhook pull me through the air to the hook. A man and a woman wearing Columbian uniforms raced out to intercept me. The woman had a pistol, while the man had a club, intending to use it to beat me off the side of the ship. I swung forward, releasing my grip on hook and sailing through the air, planting both of my feet into the middle of the man's chest as I landed.

The man was knocked off balance and sent tumbling from the wing of the airship, screaming in terror all the way. His partner was stunned by my action apparently, as she froze on the spot and didn't fire her gun. I didn't hesitate and fired a short burst from my machine gun, cutting her down instantly. Running forward to the door that led into the ship itself, I just barely avoided the hail of bullets that almost took my head off.

Two more soldiers were guarding the cargo bay of the airship, their machine guns at the ready. Summoning Devil's Kiss, I blindly threw a fire grenade through the door and waited. The sound of the explosion reached my ears, followed closely by the screams of men in pain. I quickly popped through the door and fired another burst, putting the two men out of their flaming misery.

Slapping another clip into the machine gun, I made my way through the door on my left and onto the airship's bridge. A single woman wearing white robes was standing before a small venue of lit candles, deeply in prayer. From what I could see, she wasn't armed, or didn't even seem to acknowledge my presence for that matter.

The airship had no wheel, but rather a set of levers and numbers shaped kind of like a cash register. As I pulled one of the levers, a large spinal of numbers and letters above the glass windows began to spin in response. Wait, I recognized these numbers. These were latitude and longitude coordinates!

"Okay, it's been a while since geography class, but I think I got this," I said as I began to pull the levers. A flurry of movement caught my eye and I looked up. A gunboat appeared just beyond the glass of the bridge. On it's deck were several soldiers, all of them kneeling around Comstock himself. The man was holding a microphone and looking every bit the part of being in the middle of a sermon.

"The Lord forgives everything," he said, before looking me square in the eye, "but I'm just a Prophet, so I don't have to. Amen."

"Amen." I frowned at the sound of the woman's voice coming from behind me. Turning around, I was struck with the strong smell of kerosene. While I had been distracted by the controls, the woman had dumped the stuff all over the place, including herself. What's worse, is that she was holding a lit candle aloft.

"No, DON'T!" I shouted as I began to spring forward to try and stop her. But I was too late. She let the candle fall and was consumed in a wall of fire in an instant. Her body crumpled, dying without a single noise. The flames spread everywhere, and I jumped backwards with my hands aloft to try and shield my face from the heat.

"Jesus!" The whole bridge was on fire, and a deep three toned alarm was blaring throughout the airship. I wasn't about to go down like the fucking _Hindenburg_ , I was getting out of there without dying. Shielding my face with my arms, I sprinted forward and jumped through the flames that had surrounded the door. The cargo bay door had been thrown open as part of the fire alarm, and I wasted no time in leaping from the belly of the flaming beast.

My luck, it seemed, kept holding as I found myself falling right for a skyline. I latched onto the line with my hook, but the resulting force caused me to bounce severely. Instantly, the strap holding my machine gun to my body broke, and I could only watch as the weapon tumbled away into the clouds below.

Riding the line a short ways, I spotted a set of cobblestone docks below me. I quickly detached and landed on one of them, panting and coughing from smoke inhalation. The three toned alarm reached my ears, and I looked up to find the airship I had just been on sinking past. It was going down by the tale, and flames danced all about it. Figures, the one time I get an airship and the damn thing literally goes down in flames.

After catching my breath, I took a quick look around to see where I was at. To my eternal relief, I found that I was standing on Monument Island. After everything that had happened so far, it took everything I had not to sink to my knees and kiss the cobblestone beneath my feet. After all, knowing my luck this place was probably swarming with soldiers, or something guarding this place.

"Alright, time to go find this girl."

 **And there it is, another chapter done. Now I know I lied when I said that Sam would meet Elizabeth this chapter, but it was getting too long for my taste and I decided to end it here. They will meet in the next one, I promise. But other then that, drop a review or a PM, let me know what you liked or didn't like. Hell, feel free to ask questions if you want, they might just get answered.**


	4. The Girl in the Tower

**I'm baaaack, with a new chapter. You guys didn't think I had given up on this story did you? Now this chapter is a little shorter then usual, but I figured it was best to get something out rather then nothing at all. So with that in mind, on with the chapter:**

You know, for all intents and purposes, Monument Island would have made a beautiful park, if you didn't mind a ten foot tall barricade with guard towers and what not. There were park benches and even a fountain, which looked like it had run dry years ago. Warning signs declaring that the place was dangerous and off limits lined the barricade, along with a ridiculous amount of chains.

But, other then the buzz of summertime insects, it was silent. No guards manned the towers or lined the barricade. After what I had just gone through to get here, I expected to walk into a hail of machine gun fire from an army guarding this place. To suddenly face no one was refreshing, and unnerving as hell.

Holstering both of my pistols, I walked cautiously toward the barricade, ready to dive for cover at a moment's notice. Reaching the base of the barricade, I drew my skyhook and attached to a freight hook that hung off of the side of one of the guard towers. I dangled there in the air for a moment, tempting any would be snipers to take a shot. But no bullets came, and I detached and landed on top of the barricade.

I noticed the sigh for Monument Island was overgrown with ivy, and had several lights in its letters burnt out. Even the T in Monument had gone completely dark and looked as if it was ready to fall off.

 _'For being such a sacred place to them, you'd think they take better care of it.'_

Jumping down from the barricade, I walked up the stairs toward the building's entrance. I pushed the large double doors open, not quite sure what I was expecting to find on the other side. The place looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry, a chair and a spotlight having been knocked over in the process. Was I really so frightening to them that they had evacuated the place when they heard I was coming? No, that couldn't be it. Something told me that the girl was still here, and after the army I had just torn through, they wouldn't just leave her because of little old me.

Two large signs sat on either side of the door on the other side of the room, along with a large red line painted on the floor. The sign on the left gave instructions not to approach the specimen, but the one on the right really caught my attention.

 **PAST THIS POINT: 12 HOUR QUARANTINE.**

A quarantine? I didn't like the sound of that. Did the girl have some kind of plague or something? Is that why they had this place sealed up so tight? Oh, screw it. I didn't come this far just to be stopped by a line on the floor. Stepping through the door, I found myself in a hallway. Generators lining the walls on both sides were leaking black smoke, and one of them was throwing sparks in a manner that left scorch marks on the carpet.

Giving the sparks a wide berth, I came to a large chalkboard. According to the sigh in the upper left hand comer, this was the 'Specimen: Morphology' There were xray photos of a hand, and a chart that depicted a female human's growth from age one to seventeen. What gives? Did they not know how a human child grew up around here?

 _'Well, it is 1912. And after all the ass-backwards things you've seen in this city would you really be surprised?'_

Finding myself unable to argue with my conscience, I rounded the corner and came to a sudden halt. Another generator was throwing sparks as well, telling me that this place had some kind of power overload recently. There was another pair of signs and a red line on the floor. Again, the one on the left gave instructions on not to speak to the specimen, while the one on the right was another quarantine sign. Aside from bumping the quarantine up to seventy two hours, there was something else that caught my eye.

 **APPROVED BY CHIEF SCIENTIST LUTECE.**

Lutece? As in the Lutece twins? Well that would explain how they knew about the girl, but why did they need me if one or both of them was a high ranking official in this place? More questions and still no answers.

The next room had a large display booth with the words 'Siphon Passive' emblazoned on the top. A pair of Tesla coils had arcs of electricity running from the top to machines on the wall. Well, at least now I knew where some of the power was going. There were three little displays with three levers on the booth. Stepping up to the one that read 'Transpose No. 1', I gave the lever a yank.

"Lets humor my curiosity, shall we?" I said to no one in particular. A light inside the booth lit up a brown teddy bear inside of a glass jar. The words 'Age 4, Companion' had been written on the side of the jar. After a moment, a bolt of electricity flowed into the bear from the top of the jar. In an instant, it turned from brown to pink.

"Okay, that's pretty fricken cool," I said, pulling the lever again and watching as the bear turned back to it's original color. Figuring I had wasted enough time, I rounded the booth and continued on my way. After a walk down a short hallway, I realized I could hear singing coming from a radio. It was coming out of a room tinged in red light to my left.

Stepping into the room, I realized it was a dark room, being used to develop photographs. Turing off the radio, I looked over the pictures that were stung up and being developed. Pulling the picture of the girl I had from my pocket, I looked back and forth between it and the ones being developed. Unlike my photo, which simply had a bad angle, these photographs had been taken while she was in varying states of dressing herself.

 _'Nice to see that even a city of religious nuts still has peeping tom pervs.'_ Oh, shut up conscience, got bigger fish to fry. Looking back at my photo, I realized that a single name had been written in the upper corner on the back. How I had missed it before was beyond me.

Elizabeth.

"Well, it's good to have a name with the face," I said. Turning and leaving the dark room, I continued on down the hall to the next room. It had a massive device in the center with tons of electricity flying off of it, along with several massive speakers on the walls and floor. A chart depicting the specimen's age and power readings had a line climbing steadily higher, along with the words 'Facility Unsafe' hurriedly scrawled out.

So they had abandoned this place out of fear. But not of me, of her. Why? What made her so special? One question down, two take it's place, as usual. Walking past the machine, I couldn't help but cringe at the high pitch that the speakers were giving off. Past the machine was an elevator, along with another red line and quarantine sign.

 **PAST THIS POINT, 168 HOUR QUARANTINE. APPROVED BY THE PROPHET.** If Comstock himself had ordered this one, I simply had to see what lay beyond. Stepping into the elevator, I jabbed the button with my fist and waited with my foot tapping.

"Sure could use some elevator music," I muttered to myself before the doors opened with a ding. I stepped out into a white tile and metal room. A single lever rested on a table, and as usual I gave it a yank without much thought. A pair of metal shutters slid back before me, revealing an empty bedroom. Instruments, sheet music, and posters of various music composers lined the room like that of a typical teenager that loved music.

The unusual stuff was the code breaking board and a locksmith's kit. So she liked music, codes, and breaking and entering, good information to have. Noticing a door that resembled one off of a ship open to my left, I turned away from the empty room and headed down a short hallway. Unlike how it was downstairs, I got the feeling that I was in the bowls of a battleship or a submarine now.

Noticing a panel on the wall that said 'Specimen Tracker' along with a list of rooms, I hit a switch on the side. The section for dressing room lit up and began to blink. So that's where she was. God help me if she was getting ready for the day at this time in the afternoon. Another door slid open and I quickly stepped through. I realized that I was now on a large walkway between two massive metal walls. If I had to guess, I'd say that the area where they were keeping Elizabeth was in the heart of the tower, while this walkway circled about so that the people watching her could get to different observation points.

Stepping into another room like the first, I couldn't help but notice that there was a camera set up to record here. I 'accidentally' bumped into it and sent it crashing to the floor before giving the lever a yank. The metal shutter slid open, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Elizabeth was absolutely beautiful. Her long brown hair was done up in a pony tail that hung down to the small of her back. She was wearing a white blouse and a blue skirt, and the way she was looking at me to gently adjust a lock of hair told me that she was looking into a two way mirror. What struck me most was her eyes, the most brilliant shade of blue I had ever seen.

She grabbed her hand and looked at her pinky, which was covered by a thimble, with a pout. I guess she had hurt herself while doing her hair or something. I don't know, to this day the idea of how a woman gets ready is beyond alien to me. Letting go of her hand, Elizabeth picked up a picture of the Eiffel Tower and gave a small shake of excitement before running out of view.

Not wanting to lose track of her, I hurried out of the room and on to the next observation point. Reaching the next window, I pulled on the lever and waited for the shutters to open. I guess that this was the study as there were books and what not lying around. There was a painting of the Eiffel Tower standing in the corner, along with several child drawings of some bird thing.

Elizabeth appeared in my view, setting her picture down before giving a small grin and twisting the thimble on her finger. Turning toward the painting, she reached out like she was going to grab it and rip it apart from the center. With a little effort, she threw her arms outward and a portal opened up where the painting once stood.

"Whoa!" I said, my eyes bugging out of my head. Out of everything I had seen so far, even with the Vigors, this was by far the most impressive. I could see the real Eiffel Tower, all lit up against a nighttime sky. The portal had opened in front of a movie theater, and I didn't need to speak French to see that they were clearly playing 'Revenge of the Jedi' at the moment. Tears for Fears' _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ was playing as well.

A siren suddenly sounded, and a firetruck barreled out of the night straight for the doorway. Elizabeth reacted quickly, grabbing the glowing edges of the portal and slamming them back together, closing the door just before the truck flattened both of us.

I took a step back out of instinct. The force of the portal slamming closed had caused the glass in the widow to crack. The painting was gone, leaving only a patch of bare wall in its place. Elizabeth hung her head in sadness and defeat before she took off again. I, on the hand, stood in place while I tried to wrap my mind around what I had just seen.

 _'I know now is not a good time, but I found the elevator music you were looking for.'_ Now the song that had been flowing through the portal started playing in my head. Letting out a snarl like sigh, I turned and began to try and follow Elizabeth again. Following the walkway upward to a fight of stairs, I entered another observation point and realized that this time I could hear humming.

Pulling on the lever, the metal shutters slid open to reveal a library that I could have happily killed for in order to have in my house. Elizabeth was standing by a window on the far side of the room, looking outward over the city with her arms folded. She looked so sad, and lonely. It was going to be my pleasure in getting her out of this place.

Walking out the next door, I found myself in a small hallway that led to a hatch with a wheel in the center. Giving the wheel a spin and the door a shove, I found myself on a walkway on the statue's exterior. The wind was howling in my ears, and I could clearly see the rest of the city from here.

Raising my hands to protect my eyes from the wind, I followed the walkway up the statue's shoulder to a door in her cheek. The door opened for me and allowed me to quickly slip back inside, for which I was grateful. Inside, I found a large round room with a golden circle on the floor, along with two chains connecting it to the ceiling.

As near as I could tell, it was a hatch way of some sort. The library was the biggest room I had seen, so this allowed something big either to enter or exit the statue. Either way, the only other door was on the other side. Stepping forward, I heard the sound of metal groaning.

"That doesn't sound good." One of the chains snapped, and the golden circle gave way beneath my feet. I let out a yelp as I was sent toppling into the library below. My arms flailed about as I tried to break or stop my fall. Somehow, my hand managed catch the edge of the balcony, bringing my tumble to a sudden stop. Twisting myself around, I groaned, grabbed the railing with both hands, and began to pull myself upward.

Only to find myself looking into a pair of startled blue eyes. Not exactly the entrance I was planning on, but I'll take what I can get.

"Uhhh...Hi?"

Elizabeth let out a blood curdling scream of terror. I was so surprised that I lost my grip on the railing and fell flat on my back.

"Oh man, I have got to stop falling off of stuff." WHAM! "Ow!" The copy of the Odyssey that had just rebounded off of my forehead wasn't doing me any favors, nor was the next book or the one after that.

"Stop it! Jesus Christ, who throws dictionaries, honestly?!" I shouted, holding up my hands in surrender as Elizabeth stood over me, poised to beat me to death with a rather thick physics book.

"Who are you?" she demanded. I quickly got to my feet, ignoring the knot that need popped in my back.

"My name is Sam, I've come to get you out of here," I said, reaching out my hand.

"Get away!" She tried to swing the book at me again, but I quickly caught it and yanked it free of her grasp. Getting hit with three books was my absolute limit.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," I said, tossing the book aside. Elizabeth took a deep breath before looking at me closer. It was like she was looking at a dream come true, and simply could not believe her eyes.

"Are you real?" she asked, reaching her hand out to cup my cheek. I felt my cheeks burn a little at that.

"Last I checked, yeah." A nearby golden statue of Comstock suddenly began to play a strange whistling tune. The look on Elizabeth's face turned from that of wonder, to panicked horror.

"He's coming, you've got to go!"

"Why? And where, exactly?"

"You don't want to be here when he gets here, JUST A MINUTE I'M GETTING DRESSED!" she said, shouting the last part toward the hole in the ceiling I had just fallen through. I could hear some faint mechanical squeals coming from the direction she was shouting towards.

"Elizabeth, I can get you out of here," I said, remaining calm while she continued to look about in panic. At the mention of her name, she gave me a strange look, but continued to look about in a hurry.

"There is no way, trust me, I've looked. STOP IT, YOU'RE TOO IMPATIENT, THAT'S ENOUGH!"

"There's that door over there," I said, pointing toward a large vault door on the far side of the room.

"It's locked." Remembering one of the items I had been given back in the lighthouse, I quickly dug into my pockets. Pulling out the silver key, I held if aloft for her to see.

"What about this?"

"What about it?" she asked, barely even glancing at the object in my hand.

"Keys unlock things, don't they?"

"What are you...wait, give that to me," she said, noticing the key for the first time and quickly swiping it from my grasp. She turned it over in her hands a few times before hurrying over to the door. I followed close behind, ignoring the metallic bird chirps that were coming from the ceiling. She stuck the key in a lock on the door and gave it a twist. The door gave off a few clicks before it swung open. Elizabeth lept back in surprise before she moved forward and pulled the door open further.

"It's a way out!" she exclaimed. Instantly an alarm began to blare throughout the building. A high pitched bird screech filled the air, followed closely by the whole damn building shaking. Together, we slipped through the door and ran down the flight of stairs on the other side.

"It's his job to keep me locked up in here," Elizabeth said. The whole building was shaking violently, like it had come under an artillery barrage.

"Well he's doing a fantastic job," I said in reply, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. We continued to run, until one of the jolts threw me to the floor. The high screech of metal tearing against metal filled my ears, and I had just enough time to see a few talons rip through a section of the outer hull of the statue.

"Keeping moving, don't stop!" I shouted at Elizabeth, drawing one of my pistols in the process. She sprinted on ahead of me as I got back to my feet. A beam was knocked loose from the ceiling by all the shaking, sending it crashing through the walkway. I took off at a run and easily cleared the gap left behind.

"Call the elevator!"

"What?"

"Press the button!" I shouted as I finally caught up to her. She was pressing the button as many times as she could, as fast as she could, hoping for something to happen. After a moment, she gave up and stepped backward. For the first time, she took notice of the observation windows around us. We were back in the one next to her bedroom.

Despite the fact that the building was shaking, and the demonic bird screeches were echoing throughout the halls, Elizabeth was still drawn in by what she was seeing.

"What is all this? They were watching me, all this time. Why? Why am I?" she asked, turning towards me, "WHAT AM I?"

"You're the girl who's getting out of here," I replied. The elevator doors suddenly fell forward as a massive fist punched through them. Both Elizabeth and I sprang back as a massive metal bird head with orange eyes began to try and ram it's way through the door. It was succeeding, even beginning to knock the wall down. Elizabeth screamed in terror, and I fired my pistol into the thing's face again and again. The bullets made sparks as they bounced harmlessly off of the creature's face.

 _Ding!_

The long missing elevator slammed into the top of the creature's head, and in a shower of sparks and screeching metal, both of them were sent hurdling down the shaft. Moving forward, I peered down the shaft with my pistol at the ready. A pile of debris had plugged the hole, and I could see a stairwell that had been opened up on the other side of the shaft.

"This way!" I said, jumping onto the debris. Elizabeth was right behind me.

"We have to keep moving, he's tearing the building apart!" she shouted. She was right. The building was still shaking, so the elevator hadn't killed whatever that thing was. We continued to run up the stairs. At the top, there was another hatch like door with a wheel.

Grabbing the wheel on the door, I spun it for all it was worth and shoved the door open. Elizabeth quickly slipped past me to the outside.

"Which way?!" she called over the howling wind. With that thing downstairs somewhere wreaking havoc? I thought the answer was obvious.

"Up!" We raced up the pathway toward the top of the statue. My hopes that the creature would remained trapped somewhere in the base of the tower were dashed when I saw the shadowy outline of a bird creature whip past in a cloud bank. What we were going to do now was beyond me. With no where else to go, we stopped and began to frantically look around for any signs of the creature.

Suddenly, the whole statue gave a lurch, and both Elizabeth and I were thrown over the side. Elizabeth screamed in terror as we fell. I grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her in tight to my body. Drawing my skyhook, I squeezed the trigger and prayed. Despite all the odds, I watched as a skyline appeared out of the clouds below us.

We slammed down onto the line at full force, almost yanking my shoulder out of its socket in the process. I wasted no time in slamming my finger down on the throttle, and like a shot we were off. As the line came into a loop back around toward the statue, I watched as the whole thing began to split down the middle.

The angel's head came off and tumbled past, slamming into part of the bridge as we raced downwards toward it. I kept the throttle pressed, trying to make this thing go faster so we could escape the shadow of the collapsing tower. The line gave some sharp turns, and I almost lost my grip on Elizabeth. But she clung to me like her life depended on it, because in all honesty it did. As the line made another double back, I saw a section of the Angel's wing break off and smash clean through the line ahead of us.

We were going off the rails at full speed.

This time both Elizabeth and I screamed as we flew off of the line. The G forces working on us proved to be to much, and she was yanked from my grasp. Now falling on my own, I looked down to see a section of water racing up to meet me. Turning my body so that my feet would impact first, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a deep breath.

The impact still hurt like hell, but at least I didn't land face first, or belly flop for that matter. I didn't have any time to react as the creature that had been tearing the building apart suddenly appeared in the water, having dove in after me. It's large fist wrapped around my midsection and began to squeeze as it's red eyes regarded me.

Just as I felt my ribs break and the air start to be forced out of my lungs, the creature leaned in closer and got a better look at me. It's eyes suddenly switched from red to green before it released me and flew off, leaving me confused as I sank into murky blackness.

The poundings on my chest are what woke me up. That and the sudden urge to spit up a large amount of water.

"God, I hate water," I sputtered as my vision came back into focus. Elizabeth was looking down at me, her hands on my chest like she had been preforming CPR. Seeing me awake, she gave a small smile.

"Are you okay, Samuel?" she asked. I felt like I had just been run over by a semi, and then drowned by a kraken, so I wasn't going to even bother to answer that question.

"Where am I?" I asked, noticing seagulls fly in the air behind her.

"Back in the land of the living. Here, let me help you up," she replied, taking my hand and starting to pull me upward. I gave out a gasp of pain and yanked my arm free, a little harsher then I intended.

"Just, just give me a minute," I said. This was a nap I wasn't passing up for the world. Elizabeth cocked her eyebrow at me before she turned her head as something else caught her attention. I could hear it too: music.

"Do you hear that? It's music!" she said, her voice containing excitement. I motioned with my hand a few times.

"Go on, just don't wander too far off," I said.

"Okay, I won't be long, I won't long, Samuel," she said, springing to her feet before I dozed off.

 **And that's where we leave off for now. So, Sam finally met Elizabeth, and was nearly killed by Songbird in the process. Think there might connection there? Drop a review, leave a PM, ask a question, and I'll see you all in the next one!**


	5. Battleship Bay

**I'm back! Maybe not in the New York groove, but back is still back. Honestly I struggled a little bit with this chapter due to writers block, but I finally managed to overcome that and get a new chapter out. It's kind of a filler, but still, it's better then nothing. Anywho, on with the chapter:**

I woke up with the waves lapping against my head. I wasn't sure how much time had past, but the sky was burnt orange and the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Despite the screaming protest from my ribs, I rolled over onto my hands and knees before pushing myself to my feet. Looking down over myself, I found to my relief that I still had my bag and my pistols.

Looking inside the bag, I was happy to find that the sawed off shotgun was still there. But in all of the chaos I had just gone through, the ever shifting weapon had shattered one of the whiskey bottles I had tucked inside, leaving the canvas bag soaked with alcohol and water. I unceremoniously dumped the glass shards from the bottle into the sand with an irritated sigh.

Ignoring the glares I got from a few nearby beach goers, I started to make way forward again. Elizabeth had been drawn toward the sound of music that had filled the air, the same music I could hear now. Keeping my head down and eyes to myself, I followed the music to a small deck house. On the wall was an advertisement for the _First Lady_ Aerodrome. I guess it was Comstock's personal airship at one point, or a floating museum dedicated to his wife.

Either way, I had just found our way out of here. And a way to give Comstock the finger. A win win in my book.

On the other side of the deck house, I finally located the source of the music. It was coming from a small band situated at the end of a pier that jutted out into the water. People were dancing to the music on the pier as well, one of them the brown haired, blue eyed beauty I was looking for. By the time I had limped my sorry ass to the end of the pier, Elizabeth was dancing all by herself with everyone around her watching and clapping to the beat of the music. She was so immersed in her own little world that she didn't even notice me.

"Hey, miss?" I said, trying to get her attention. The dancing continued like I wasn't even there.

"Elizabeth? Lizzie? Earth to Liz? Hey, Elizabeth!"

"Hello! Oh, this is wonderful! Come dance with me, Samuel!" Elizabeth said, turning toward me and holding her hands out for me to take them.

"It's just Sam, and I'm not in really any condition to dance. We need to go," I replied, rubbing my ribs gingerly. She gave me a look of concern, but quickly brushed it off.

"Where? Where could be better then this?" she asked, holding her arms out and turning on the spot. I glanced upward past her and spied _The First Lady_ sailing past.

"Anywhere you want. New York, London, Paris?" Based on what I had seen in the Tower, I figured that the mention of the City of Light would get her attention. Sure enough, her face lit up.

"Paris? I don't...how could we get there?" she asked. I pointed past her to the airship, bringing the purple and gold craft to her attention for the first time.

"Well, that's where that airship is going. But if you want to stay here and dance..."

"No! Come on, lets go!" she said, her voice full of excitement as she grabbed my hand and dragged me down the pier. I let out a soft whimper of pain, but followed along none the less. When we reached the end of the pier, Elizabeth realized that she was hurting me and quickly let me go, allowing me a chance to rest on the railing and catch my breath.

"I can't believe I'm out," she said before taking a deep breath in through her nose, "You smell that? I never smelled anything like that." Curious, I took a deep sniff, well as deep as my ribs would allow anyway. The whole place smelled like a public pool or a fountain, a mixture of water and chemicals.

"Real beaches don't smell like that," I said, remembering family vacations to the Florida coast in my younger days. Elizabeth sighed.

"It's expected I guess. You know they built this beach in only six months?" she asked. I blinked, curious. Not so much about the beach, but her knowledge of it.

"And how do you know that?" I asked.

"From one of the books I threw at you," she said with a shrug, "they also helped for passing the time." I couldn't help but grin at that. Taking another breath, I began to limp up the beach beside her. We passed men lifting exercise balls, and doing various squats and other stretches. As we began to climb the stairs to a set of turnstile, Elizabeth turned and looked back out over the beach.

"It almost looks like a real ocean, but it's just an elaborate set of pumps and rain catchers," she said, almost to herself. I paused and looked at the view she had.

"No. The real thing makes you feel like you're an ant, and you swear you can see forever," I said. She looked up at me with curiosity and awe.

"Really?"

"Hey, maybe we'll stop off somewhere on the way to Paris and I'll show you," I said before I turned and passed through the gate. We quickly found ourselves in a gift shop of some kind. Dominating a post right up front was the same poster I had seen of Comstock when I had first arrived in the city.

"Mr...Um?" Elizabeth said, looking at me while biting her lower lip. I realized that she didn't know my last name.

"Roberts. My last name is Roberts," I quickly provided.

"Right, Mr. Roberts I read about Comstock. They say he can see the future." I rolled my eyes. In my opinion I still owed the guy a bullet or a beating for sending a fricken army after me.

"You'd be surprised by what people in positions of power do to twist the facts about themselves," I said as I continued to limp forward. Elizabeth, however, was looking at the poster with a since of nervousness.

"I don't like his look."

"Do you dislike the look of the Prophet, or his gaze?" the shop owner asked. Something about the way the man talked put me on edge, and my hand slid close to one of my pistols.

"Can we leave now?" Elizabeth asked me. I nodded and led the way up a couple flights of stairs and out of the store. When we reached the top, I had to stop and rest against the wall again. Turns out that almost being crushed to death by a giant metal bird monster tends to take it out of you. Elizabeth noticed my discomfort, and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Mr. Roberts?"

"Just Sam, please," I said.

"That fall didn't do you any favors, did it?"

"Yeah, and neither did that giant bird thing either."

"I'll look around and see if I can find something to ease your pain," she said. I looked up at her and gave a half smile.

"Aw, you're sweet," I said in a teasing manner. She quickly blushed before brushing some hair over her ear and turning away. Pushing off of the wall, we continued up the boardwalk past several venders that sold candy or dolls or other trinkets. However, we quickly found our path blocked by a pair of familiar faces.

"Bird?"

"Or the Cage?"

"Or perhaps the Bird."

"Nothing beats the Cage." The twins were holding a pair of velvet pillows, offering what was on them to Elizabeth. I crossed my arms as I regarded the two.

"Bobby, Rose. Good to see you again." The twins glared at me.

"It's Robert."

"And Rosalind."

"Yeah, tell it to someone who gives a damn. Now don't you two have something better to do?" I asked.

"Of course we have something to do," said Robert.

"We must help the young lady make a decision," Rosalind added. At that moment, Elizabeth, who up until this point had been in her own little world, spun about and thrust two jewelry boxes in my face.

"Look at these, they're amazing! Which one should I pick?" she asked. I cocked my eyebrow at her. What was I, her boyfriend that picked things out for her now?

 _'Technically you're the only guy even close to her age that she's met, by default you're the closest thing to a boyfriend she's got'._ Stay out of this conscious, not the time. Both broaches had an onyx stone for a setting. However the one on the left had a golden cage, while the one on the right had a silver bird flying free.

"The one on the right."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, why not? The bird means freedom, and like the bird you're free now," I said. Not sure where the philosophical crap came from, but it was better then nothing. Elizabeth smiled before she took the bird broach out of its box and placed it on her necktie.

"Surprising. I expected the cage," Rosalind said.

"If you're going to keep being a sore loser I won't be doing this again," Robert replied before they stepped aside and let us pass. We walked a short distance up the pier before people began to run past us toward the railing. They were gasping and pointing in horror. Elizabeth followed their fingers and gasped as well.

Emerging from a cloud bank was the decapitated statue of Monument Island. Black smoke poured out of the structure, and with the sun behind it the angel was clearly missing a wing as well.

 _'Damn, you give a whole new definition to the phrase home wrecker.'_ Oh eat a dick conscious.

"You alright?" I asked.

"It was my home," Elizabeth said somberly.

"We should keep moving." While everyone else was staring at the smoking tower, we slipped toward what appeared to be the entrance to an arcade. Oh hey, 1912's version of an arcade. I could not wait to see what kind of twisted shit this had in store for us. But standing smack dab in between us and the arcade was a check point.

Seriously? Were these assholes so desperate to catch me that they were checking kids for IDs now? Honestly, Comstock needed to get a hobby or something.

"There's no way I'm getting past that," I said out of the corner of my mouth. I absentmindedly stuck my hand in my pocket, hiding my tattoo that so easily identified me.

"I have just the thing, come on!" Elizabeth said before taking me by the hand and pulling me to the side towards an employee entrance. As we approached the door, a drunk in a bowler hat that was slumped against the wall stirred.

"Hey, hey copper, look at this one! He's suspicious if you ask me!" he shouted, flailing his arm in my direction. My hand gripped one of my pistols, ready to draw if things got ugly.

"Alright, quite down, Pete. Go home and dry yourself out," one of the cops replied without taking his eyes off of the line of people. With that, the drunk passed out again and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was really tired of shooting people, and just wanted to get to the airship without anything happening.

Walking backwards toward the door, I kept my eye on both the drunk and the checkpoint. When I finally felt the doorknob in my hand, I gave it a quick twist. It wouldn't so much as budge. I jiggled the handle a few times, but got the same result. Ordinary, I would have simply kicked the door in and been on my way. But with that checkpoint so close? That'd attract way more attention than I needed.

"Damnit. We're not getting in this way," I said as I started to try and formulate another plan. Elizabeth stepped forward and looked the lock over. After a moment, she pulled a bobby pin from her hair and went to work. I quickly stepped in between her and the checkpoint, blocking what she was doing from the view of the cops.

In less then a minute, I heard the click of the lock opening, and we quickly slipped through the doors. I may have been good with guns, but I had never learned how to pick a lock. The closest I'd come was blasting a padlock off an old shed door when I was sixteen with a twelve gauge.

"You can pick locks," I said, a hint of pride in my voice.

"You're a roguish type, I'm surprised you can't," she retorted. I rolled my eyes at her.

"My way's not as...subtle as yours," I said, patting one of my pistols. We were in a small ticket/accounting area now. None of the drawers yielded anything useful, so we continued onward. In the maintenance hall to the back, we found a black worker scrubbing the floor. He was muttering to himself about his work. At the sound of our footsteps, he changed his tone quickly, both literally and figuratively.

"Oh, ah h'lo sur. Don't you pay me no never mind, just foolishness, ya know, just monkeyshines," he said. I cocked my eyebrow as I came to a halt in front of him. I'd heard him speak earlier, he was clearly far more intelligent then he let on, and he was just trying to fool me.

"You can knock off the dumb slave act, friend. I'm just passing through," I said. He looked up at me, startled and confused as I crouched in front of him.

"In fact, I'd say this city has more of a problem with me then it does with you," I continued as I raised my hand, showing the compass rose tattoo. His eyes went wide when he realized what he was looking at.

"You...you're," he stuttered. I flashed a grin before tossing him a few silver eagles. He looked at the coins before looking back at me, his mouth agape.

"Do yourself a favor and get to someplace where they'd actually value your intelligence," I said before leading the way up a small flight of stairs. The new hallway we found ourselves in had a vending machine in it, which I quickly used to buy a first aid kit in order to treat my ribs.

"You didn't happen to study medicine along with locks in that tower of yours, did you?" I asked jokingly. Elizabeth took the kit from my hands and smiled at me.

"As a matter of fact, I did," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. My eyebrows went up in surprise at that.

"Well, in that case, let's get me patched up," I said, leading the way to a small washroom off to the side. There was a radio sitting on top of a barrel, only instead of playing music, the DJ was talking about something else.

"Is your housekeeper acting suspicious? Try asking the girl a few key questions, like; 'don't you think those Vox Populi have a valid complaint against the Prophet?' and 'I'm sure some of your friends have attended meetings...I'd sure like to see what they're all about'." With that, the radio suddenly cut out, mainly cause it suddenly found itself in a billion pieces on the floor, with my help of course. Elizabeth flashed me a look, but I just simply shrugged as I sat on a crate in the corner.

"I take it you're not a music lover," she said as she dampened a rag in the sink.

"Just tired of all the crap this city has to offer is all," I replied as I slipped my bag and vest off. This was harder then usual, given how tender my ribs were. Very slowly and gingerly, I undid the buttons on my shirt and pulled it back, taking a good look at my midsection for the first time.

I've never really been overly toned, but my stomach and chest were flat thanks to what little working out I did. Regardless if I had a six pack or not, my chest and stomach were several ugly shades of purple with hints of blue and green. Seeing this, I suddenly didn't feel so much like a pussy for wanting to collapse from exhaustion.

"Well, this is about as painful as it looks," I said. Elizabeth blushed when she saw that I was no longer wearing my shirt, but she went about her work professionally, applying bandages as she went.

"So, tell me something about yourself, Samuel," she said. I rolled my eyes, before gritting my teeth as she brushed against a particularity tender spot.

"It's just Sam. Honestly you don't need to be so prim and proper all the damn time."

"I'm just trying to be a proper lady." I rolled my eyes again. But, honestly I wasn't surprised. It's 1912 after all.

"Elizabeth, take a good look around. You can be yourself around me," I said. She blushed a little, but continued to apply the bandages.

"So?"

"So?"

"I'd like to know a little bit more about the man who literally dropped into my life," she said. There it was, the questions I'd had no doubt would be coming. Should I tell her the truth about me or make up some story? I kind of doubted she'd buy the truth about me being from the future. But, then again, Columbia was a city of the impossible.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, wincing as she brushed up against a tender spot.

"Well, where are you from?"

"Kansas. Or Wamego to be more specific."

"What was it like there?"

"Dull. Really dull," I told her truthfully. If you love the 'Wizard of Oz', then Wamego is the town for you. Honestly, I have never seen another place so obsessed with that film. It seems like everything is Oz this, or Oz that. They even celebrated Oktoberfest as Ozfest, which annoyed both my cousin and myself to no end. But beyond that, it's just another town.

"So what, you got so board that you decided to go on this whirlwind adventure to rescue little old me?" Elizabeth asked. I gave a tired smile.

"Not exactly. I owe some people a debt for saving my life, apparently. To pay them back, I was sent to come find you," I explained.

"Saving your life? Were you sick or something?" she asked as she put the finishing touches on the bandages. I shrugged.

"Honestly, I don't remember the incident. But I'm here now, so I figured if the train's rolling I might as well blow the whistle." I slipped my shirt and vest back on. The bandages restricted my movement, but not enough to totally slow me down in a fight. I had to give the girl credit where it's due, she sure knew her stuff.

"Since you're asking questions, it's only fair I get to ask one. What's the deal with the big bird thing?" I asked.

"Songbird?"

"Yeah, that giant ass monstrosity that ripped a building apart like it was tinfoil, what gives?" I asked. Elizabeth sighed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"He's been around for as long as I can remember. He always brought me books and stuff when I was little. He was my friend, but as I got older, I realized that he was keeping me imprisoned, and I grew to hate him," she explained.

"Didn't seem very intent on letting you go," I said. Elizabeth gave a half smile at that.

"You're lucky to have slipped out of his grasp with the injuries you have, Mr. Roberts." I frowned as her words registered. So much so that I didn't even bother trying to correct her use of my name.

"It let me go," I murmered.

"What?"

"I didn't slip away. It let me go," I said, louder this time. Now she looked confused.

"What do you mean it let you go?"

"I mean one moment it has me, crushing me, then it takes a closer look, its eyes turn green, and it lets me go before flying off," I explained.

"Why would it do that?" she asked. I shrugged.

"I dunno, maybe it recognized me or something," I said. As we walked back out into the hall, I took notice of a white man and a black woman standing next to the wall. Despite the racist tones of the city around them, they had their arms wrapped lovingly around each other. Wait, I'd seen these two before. They were the couple at the raffle, the ones I'd tried to help.

"It's you, the one from the raffle!" the man said.

"Here, take this. Daisy always said someone like you would come along," the woman added as she passed me a small sack of coins. I pushed it back into her hands.

"I got enough to get by. You two look like you could use it more," I said. The two looked at me gratefully. I merely smiled and continued on my way. As we walked, Elizabeth looked at me with a strange curiosity. I ignored it as we continued on into the arcade itself. The place was basicly a giant open hall with a line of machines running down the center. Scattered here and there were people with cotton candy or bottles of pop on silver trays.

Elizabeth looked like, well, frankly, a kid in an arcade. I, on the other hand, could have been more impressed. Growing up with an actual arcade in the mall, and then consoles and computer games when my teens hit, this was nothing by comparison. She wanted to run around and study everything, from the balloons to the giant robot George Washington that people were taking photos with.

I practically had to drag her away from it all. A quick reminder that we were headed to Paris allowed her to get back on track. As we approached another turnsile that led to the ticket area for the airship, a young woman with brown hair called out to Elizabeth.

"Annabelle!"

"Who?"

"Annabelle, it's me, Esther."

"My name's not Annabelle," Elizabeth said, confused and trying to correct her.

"Are you sure?" the woman, Esther, asked.

"My name is Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. Isn't that a lovely name?" Esther said, her demeanor suddenly changing as she turned and walked through the turnstile. Elizabeth looked back at me, her eyebrow cocked.

"That was...odd." I didn't say anything, watching as the woman walked away from us. I got a feeling deep down in my gut that something wasn't right. As we passed through the turnsile, a cop standing guard announced that the park was closing and we were the last customers.

We walked up a flight of stairs toward the ticket booth. People milled about, getting a hot dog from a hot dog stand, having their shoes shined, the works. The more steps I took, the more I couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. Maybe I was paranoid and tired, and all I needed was a good nap and a good stiff drink after all this.

"Two tickets to the _First Lady_ airship," I said when we reached the booth. The man behind the counter was facing away from us and talking on the phone.

"Yeah just a minute," the man said over his shoulder before he went back to muttering into the phone. I only caught snippets of his end of the conversation, but it sounded like the guy was setting up a drug deal or something. As the growing feeling of unease spread throughout my stomach, I began to drum the fingers of my left hand on the counter. Why was I suddenly so on point all of a sudden?

' _Look around you, dumbass! Actually fucking look! Use your head!'_ I glanced around, and suddenly my blood went cold. The people were there, moving through the motions of what they were doing, but just barely. They were doing just enough so that someone who wasn't really paying attention would skip over them without a second thought. And every single eyeball in the room was on us.

Son of a bitch, we'd waltzed right into a trap.

"Sorry about the wait!" the man behind the booth suddenly shouted, turning and plunging a knife right through my tattoo and pinning my hand to the counter. It was, by far the most painful moment in my life up until that point. I screamed in pure agony while shouts filled the air as the others rushed towards us.

"Get the girl!" Esther shouted from across the room. Through the blinding pain, that struck a cord with me. In an instant I was on auto pilot. My free hand plunged into my bag and grabbed the sawed off shotgun. The man behind the counter didn't have much time to react as I leveled both barrels into his face at point blank range and squeezed the trigger.

A deep resonating boom filled the air as the man's head turned into little more then a cloud of red mist. Without missing a beat, I turned and fired the second shot in the shotgun. A man who'd been rushing Elizabeth took the majority of the buckshot in the shoulder, the force of the strike knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling. Elizabeth was looking on in pure horror, but I didn't have that luxury, not if we wanted to stay alive.

Dropping the now empty sawed off, my hand flew down and drew one of my pistols. It wasn't easy, considering my other had was still stabbed and pinned to the counter top, but I was seeing red at this point.

"Come get some, motherfuckers!" I shouted as I leveled the pistol and began firing at the oncoming crowd.

 **Opps. Cliffhanger. What a shame. Guess y'all will have to stick around for the next chapter, which God willing will be out much sooner then this one was.**

 **Now the number of followers for this story has more then doubled in the past six months, so I beg you please, please drop a review or a PM. Don't hesitate to state what you like or hate, or even ask a question or throw out a theory. I wanna know, what are your guy's theory's about Sam? How does he tie into the insanity of the BioShock universe? What makes him so special? Don't hesitate to think and let me know, and I'll see you all in the next one!**


	6. Soldier's Field

**Hello guys, I'm baaack! Again, this took longer then I expected on getting it out, and I'm sorry for that. But here it is, a new chapter for you to gawk at, enjoy:**

Have you ever had something happen to you that made you so mad that you literally saw red? All rational thought gone, just you, your anger, and whatever it is you're angry at. Apparently being stabbed in the hand is my trigger. And by that, I mean I flew right past angry, pissed off, and even enraged.

I. Was. Livid.

In fact I was so enraged that I literally pried that knife that had impaled my hand to the desk top from said hand and then threw it at the nearest cop. It didn't stab him or anything, rather the handle just rebounded off of his forehead. Not enough to kill, but enough to knock him flat on his back. I may be good at many things, but knife throwing isn't one of them.

Elizabeth screamed in terror as bullets tore up the wall around us. I was on autopilot, summoning fireballs and lobbing it at the nearest cops. Fire raced through the room, forcing men who weren't engulfed in flames to seek cover. My salts were depleted now, but I had some breathing room. I wasted no time in scooping Elizabeth up and forcing her through the window of the ticket counter before grabbing up my shotgun and following suit. I tumbled over one of the desks behind the window and landed on my back.

"What...what?" she asked, trying to process what was going on. A man came running up to the window, sticking the barrel of his machine gun through in order to get a shot at us. I leveled my pistol and shot him twice in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards.

"Move!" I shouted as I got to my feet. That got her attention, and then we were running. We ran outside onto a gondola. I grabbed a lever with my good hand and slammed it to one side and then back into it's original position. With a bump, the platform began to move, leaving behind anyone who might have been following us.

"What happened back there...you killed those men," Elizabeth said. Her shock was wearing off, and was rapidly being replaced with horror. I took a step forward.

"Elizabeth I..."

"You're a monster!" she declared before giving me a shove backwards. Apparently I was more drained then I thought, because rather then catch myself, I collapsed to the floor.

"Oh my God, Mr. Roberts, you're hurt!" she said, her mood and tone doing a turn around so fast I was surprised she didn't get whiplash. In an instant, she was on her knees next to me, looking over the wound in my hand.

"Just let me bleed. Like you said, I'm a monster," I replied. She glared at me before ripping some fabric from the hem of her skirt.

"I spoke out of turn. Looking back on it, I can see that you were just trying to defend us," she said as she began to wrap the makeshift bandage around my hand.

"That doesn't make it any less true," I said tiredly. Truth be told, I was appalled not only by my body count, but by how easily and quickly I had gotten use to the killing. It's one thing to be young and dumb, thinking you could be a badass if the opportunity ever presented itself. It's quite another to actually be in that situation.

"What happened back there, it's not the last of it, is it?" she asked as she put the finishing touches on the bandage. I clenched my fist a few times, getting a feel for it. It still hurt, but the pain was manageable.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. The gondola came to a halt in a small station area and we stepped off. From here we had a fairly decent view of Battleship Bay. At the top of a set of stairs, we found a map, a turnstile, and some large advertisements for some more vigors. The map was the kind that you'd find in an amusement park, the kind that had pictures of the places, rather then just the names. From what I could tell, the whole place was called Soldier's Field, and we were right in the heart of it with the docking place for the _First Lady_ being directly ahead. Seeing no other alternative, I led the way through the gate.

The welcome center to Soldier's Field was both annoying and strangely deserted. I took a moment to reload all my weapons before holstering them. The pistols were always at the ready and I could pass of me having to wear them because I was security or something. But the sawed off shotgun would raise way more questions then what it was worth.

Finishing with that, I looked up and took in a good look at the center. A large automated cartoon eagle was in the heart of it all, holding a rifle with one wing while it saluted with the other. Around its base circled four automated dolls on a track so that they looked like soldiers marching.

Off to the right, we found a small model of Soldier's Field free floating. Under normal circumstances I would have been impressed, but after seeing an entire full sized city do the same thing, the most you were going to get out of me was 'meh'.

"Soldier's Field, built in 1903 by the Hand of our Prophet," Elizabeth read on the plaque below the display.

"Seems like a lot a resources just for some carnival games," I said.

"It's designed to focus children on national service," she said.

"You mean brainwash them into joining the military," I deadpanned. Elizabeth shrugged.

"Train up a boy in the way he should go, and even when he is old he will not stray from it," she said. Compared to some of the other things I had seen, this was only slightly fucked up. It could have turned out way, way worse.

 _'How would you know? You're not even past the front gate yet.'_ Okay, that was a fair point. Having seen enough of the model, I led the way back across the center to a small ticketing area and office space. The door into it was locked however. Rather then letting Elizabeth handle it, I planted my boot squarely in the center of the double doors, sending them flying open. My companion gave me a look, but otherwise remained silent as we began looking through the desks for anything valuable.

"What happens if someone finds us in here?" she asked as she came up with a handful of silver eagles.

"We tell them we got lost looking for the bathroom," I said.

"And that works?" she asked, skeptical at best. I shrugged.

"I don't know. Doubt it. Do I look like a guy with a plan?" Elizabeth just gave me a look, but didn't press the matter. Making our way into the back of the office, we came around the corner to find a couple of safes, a roll top desk, a regular desk, and a rack filled with rifles sitting behind the desk. If I had to guess, this was probably the head of security's office.

"Oh yeah," I said to myself as I picked up one of the rifles and looked it over. It was a self loading rifle that vaugley resembled an M1 Carbine. I'm not sure how common semi automatic rifles were in 1912, but by this point I was starting to not care. The best part was, if these were here, that meant I could pass off myself as more of a security person with one and not get questioned. I made sure to load down every single possible spare point with spare magazines.

"What do they mean by it?" Elizabeth asked. I looked at her confused, and she pointed to the wall above the stand of rifles. It was a large poster with a father, mother, and daughter standing to the side of some large writing.

"Columbia Security. Protecting our Faith, Wealth, and...Racial Purity, god dammit," I read before pinching the bridge of my nose. This place was seriously starting to get on my nerves.

"Okay, I'm calling it right here. This place and time can officially Bite. My. Ass," I said.

"Time?" Elizabeth asked, confused by my choice of wording. Shit, shit, shit. I still hadn't figured out a way to explain the whole time travel thing without making myself seem like a nut case.

"Um, never mind that, let's just get moving. Longer we stand here the less time we get to spend in Paris," I said. Her face brightened at the mention of the French Capital, and I knew I was in the clear.

 _'Smooth save there, Marty McFly.'_ Oh, you can bite my ass too, conscience. We made our way back out into the main room of the center. A strange steampunk looking device with a glass ball in it's center sat next to a security gate. Inside the glass was some kind of pulsing crystal thing with electricity flowing off of it.

As we neared the gate, the glass ball suddenly exploded, and the metal gate slammed down, blocking our way forward. As the smoke and sparks cleared, Elizabeth tried to pry the gate upward, but was unable to do so.

"Gate's shut up tight. Now how are we gonna get to the airship?" she asked, defeat in her voice. I gave her a look. What was the point of coming all this way just to be stopped by a little gate?

"Let me give it a try," I said as I slung the rifle over my shoulder. I stepped forward and lifted the gate like it was a garage door. It was a little tougher then expected, but I was able to get it to move after a few tries. I raised it so that I was above my head, and held it in place as Elizabeth passed through. Once she was past, I stepped forward and let the gate slam back down.

"Shock Jockey, who needs the power company?" she said, reading an advertisement for another vigor that was directly in front of us.

"Some idiot's alternative to electricity," I said, motioning over my shoulder to the gate. If I had to guess, it was powered by this Shock Jockey crap.

"Doesn't seem to work very well," she noted. I gave her a half grin and started forward again. We stepped out of the Welcome Center and into Soldier's Field itself. A roar filled the air, and we looked up to see the airship we were after passing directly overhead.

"And there she is," I said. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a balloon in all my life.

"That will take us to Paris?" Elizabeth asked.

"That will take us wherever you wanna go," I answered. The airship was headed to dock with a large free floating island made of metalwork that was the same type found on the Effie Tower.

"Just stay close," I warned. The ambush in the ticket center had me on edge.

"Yes, Mr. Roberts."

"Sam, please, just Sam," I begged her. Mr. Roberts was my grandfather, not me.

"Okay...Sam. Do you want to head straight there or take a look around? This place looks like it could have some useful stuff we need," she said as she looked around. I stood in silence, watching as the airship went to it's docking point. Part of me wanted to flat out sprint to the airship and put this whole shitty ass city behind us. But, then again, it was a long way to Paris or wherever we might have been headed, and we'd need supplies for the trip. Looking off to our left, I spied an ice cream parlor. While we were grocery shopping, Elizabeth might as well live a little while she was here.

"Hey, Elizabeth, did that flying monstrosity ever bring you ice cream?" I asked. Her face brightened at the mention of the frozen treat, and we headed toward the parlor. I ordered her a single cone of chocolate and then paid for it, choosing not to get one for myself. Since I was a kid, my teeth had been sensitive to the point that ice cream caused me pain. I could still eat it, but I found it best if it was only done sparingly.

"So why did these people send you to come get me?" she asked as she licked on the cone like a small child.

"I don't know. Probably wanted you to teach them how to pick locks," I said.

"Why you?" she asked. I sighed as I leaned on a railing and looked out over the clouds.

"Honestly, I don't know. I don't remember," I said, "Maybe they wanted someone who had never heard of this place, although I don't see much of an advantage in that."

"I thought that Columbia was common knowledge below," she said.

"Ha. It's probably one of the best kept secrets in human history," I replied. Elizabeth finished her ice cream and we started walking looking at all the various shop fronts as we went.

"So what do you do for a living?" she asked as we walked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, at first I thought you might have been a student, but now I figure you're a soldier, or a mercenary of some sort," she explained. I chuckled at that.

"I'm a blue collar worker," I replied.

"Blue collar? Are you a tailor?" she asked. Shit, was that term even in use in 1912? I had to play this carefully.

"No. It's a term used to describe the common worker. I worked in a factory," I said.

"Not exactly the kind of person who would be able to do all this," she noted.

"My family has a long tradition of being soldiers. Both dad and granddad insisted that I know the basics on how to survive and what not."

"So you're not a student. How old are you?"

"Twenty One," I answered. We continued on, passing a vendor who was showing off a small stuffed version of Songbird to some kids. He was making it fly through the air and making cawing noises. I just went past, ignoring the uneasy feeling that settled into my gut. Elizabeth must not have seen this, cause her questions quickly started up again.

"So, is there a woman in your life?" she asked. I stopped and cocked my eyebrow at her. That was a particularly touchy subject for me, but she didn't know that.

"I did," I answered.

"What happened?"

"She died." I said before walking again, picking up my pace a little so she couldn't see the shuttering breath that I took.

"How?" Elizabeth asked.

"There was an accident, and she died. It was my fault," I answered. She must have realized what kind of territory we were treading into, because she dropped the subject. We continued on up the boardwalk, steering toward the place where the airship was docked. As we walked, we came across a small stage area with children in front of it. Up on the stage were two people dressed up like cartoon characters at Disneyland.

"Look! Duke and Dimwit!" Elizabeth cried with excitement. I just gave her a blank look.

"You know, 'remember boys and girls, don't be a Dimwit!' How do you not know about that?" she asked.

"Must be something particular to Columbia," I answered. That, or this time period, but I wasn't going to say that.

"I use to love those stories as a kid. But..they are a bit off putting," she said.

"I think he looks like the Vault Boy," I said. It was true, the character on the stage looked like you had taken the Vault Boy and stuffed him into an old Boy Scout uniform.

"The who?" SHIT! Me and my big mouth. I knew for a fact that Fallout wasn't around in 1912.

"Never mind," I said. I figured we had wandered enough by this point, so I made a bee line for the airship. By now, a light fog had settled in, giving everything a somewhat hazy look. Evening was fully starting to settle in, and all I was looking forward to was a quiet airship ride and the possibility of a self induced coma.

The gondola that led to the airship's dock was summoned via a lever. Directly behind this lever was another one of those housing things that had the sparky crystals of Shock Jockey in it. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I gripped the lever. Please don't let my luck kick in, please don't let my luck kick in, please don't let my luck kick in.

I threw the lever, and the crystal exploded in a blinding shower of sparks.

RAAAA! GOD DAMNIT, EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. I had to restrain myself from decimating the housing unit out of sheer rage. The swearing though, that was something I couldn't control. Elizabeth looked stunned, and then turned pale at my vulgarity. A few mothers a short distance away gave me dirty looks as they steered their children away from me. Finally, I was able to get my temper under control and took a deep breath.

"Alright, looks like we're gonna need Shock Jockey," I said.

"Look at this," Elizabeth said, pointing to a sign next to the controls, "Come and see the future of power at the Hall of Heroes."

"Well, that's convenient," I noted. Suddenly, a fog horn sounded. Apparently this was not a normal occurrence as people we could see nearby were looking around in confusion. Then, a massive airship appeared out of the fog bank. It was larger then the one I had been on earlier, and built more like a flying warship. Then fired a few rockets from one of the turrets hanging from underneath it. They streaked into a few of the buildings, exploding in massive fireballs and igniting them.

I yanked Elizabeth down into cover while people screamed and ran. From the airship came a small swarm of gunships. Most of them passed overhead, but one banked off from the others and hovered next to us. I stood, unslinging my rifle and preparing to line up a shot. I didn't get far, as a bald man with a golden eye patch threw his hand out at me, sending a bolt of lightning right into my chest.

I don't know if you've ever been hit with a taser, or stuck by lightning, but it's actually not true that people lose control of their bowls when it happens. Every single muscle in your body seizes up, making it almost impossible to breathe, much less urinate. My body locked up and I fell to the deck, helpless.

"Take her!" the man ordered. A few of the troopers jumped from the deck of the gunboat and grabbed Elizabeth. She screamed, then clawed and kicked at them in an effort to get free. But it was no use as they were much stronger then she was. The man with the eye patch looked down at me with disdain.

"Tell Comstock that Slate and the real soldiers have his Lamb," he said. With that, the gunship began to turn away

"SAM!" Elizabeth screamed, stretching out her hand toward me as if I could reach her. I could only look on as they got further and further away. I pushed myself to my feet and stretched my hand out as well, as if I could take her hand.

"ELIZABETH!"

I watched as the gunships returned to the massive airship, a sense of rage coming down on top of me. They'd snatched her away before I could even react. I wasn't about to let her go, not now, not after everything I had been through. With a determined snarl, I started after them, going over the rooftops in an effort to keep my destination in view.

The airship was circling over a disconnected floating building called the Hall of Heroes. Comstock's men had sealed the place off and set up a perimeter, but hadn't moved in due to the airship's presence. From what I could gather, poking and prodding around the line trying to find a way through, this whole thing was an uprising being staged by a rouge element of the Columbian Army.

Cornelius Slate had at one point been a high ranking member in the military, with that airship, the _Revelation,_ serving as his personal command post. For whatever reason, Slate had become disillusioned with Comstock, taken his ship and the men under his command and turned against Columbia. I personally didn't care one way or the other regarding Slate or his rebellion. All I cared about was Elizabeth, and she was currently in the hands of Slate's men.

Near the only remaining skyline that was attached to the Hall of Heroes, I came across a sniper's nest on the roof of one of the buildings. The sniper never even saw me coming, and probably didn't realize something was wrong until he was hurdling toward the ground twenty thousand feet below face first.

Slinging my rifle over my back, I picked up his before I stood upright and looked it over. It resembled a Springfield 1903 and had a scope mounted on top. I worked the bolt and sadistic grinned to myself. Pistols and shotguns were fun, and the machine gun had taken a little getting use to, but precision shooting had always been where I shined the most. My bedroom in my parents house had a half dozen trophies and metals I had won when I was a kid thanks to it.

The closer I got to the Hall, the more I could see evidence of Slate and his men tearing up the place. I slipped into a small entrance station of some sort. Here, Slate's men had not only toppled a statue, but they had also vandalized several Duke and Dimwit advertisements as well. As I walked on, I came across a few wooden crates. They had the words Bucking Bronco branded into them, along with a stallions head.

Prying open one of the crates, I was greeted with the sight of a few golden bottles packed in hay. The lid of the bottle had a cowboy trying to ride a bucking horse. Picking up the bottle, I looked it over and swirled the glowing liquid around inside. I wasn't sure what this new vigor did, or if altering my DNA any further was the answer. But hey, you only live one right? Besides, I was gonna need all the help I could get in getting Elizabeth back. Yanking off the cork, I downed it all in one go.

The stuff tasted like a mixture of honey, wheat, and cough syrup. I heard a clap of thunder and my vision pulsed. I watched as the flesh on my hands vibrated so hard that it began to peel off in chunks. Then, in a flash, it was over, and my hands were normal again. Taking a breath, I readied my rifle and continued on again.

Out the back of this little station was a small square. I had stumbled straight into the skyline station where the Columbian forces were mustering in perpetration for their assault. A drill sergeant or something was giving a speech to a mustering of troops. I was ignoring him, trying to find a way to slip past unnoticed, until I heard the phrase 'potato eater' leave his mouth.

My family is Irish, so Irish that I don't have to wear green on Saint Patrick's day. So when I heard that, I lost my temper again. Standing up, I sent out a wave of Bucking Bronco, testing out my new vigor for the first time. The entire formation, including the man speaking, were all launched and suspended about ten feet in the air. Switching out, I threw a ball of Devil's Kiss, torching each and every one of them without mercy.

A screech filled the air, and I looked up just in time to see a Crow jump from a balcony of one of the buildings around the square and vanish in a puff of smoke. I waited, watching where his little bird flock went before I acted. The moment he reappeared, I activated Bucking Bronco again, trapping him in the air. I walked up and fired my rifle at point blank range into his head.

I was done playing around. Nothing was going to stand in my way, and I wasn't going to stop until I got Elizabeth back.

With my salts drained, I headed into a nearby restaurant in order to scavenge for supplies. What I found inside was something I was not expecting. It was a virtual bloodbath, with about four or five dead guys dressed in red lying in various slumped states. From the looks of things, the soldiers had attacked them, and they had gone out in a blaze of glory.

I didn't find anything of use up front, so I worked my way back toward the bathrooms. In the bathroom that was designated as female, I noted something that was a little off. It was a hat stand with a single top hat on it. Why would something like this, in this time period, be in the female bathroom?

Nudging the rack in curiosity, I was rewarded with a section of wall sliding back to reveal a hidden passageway. With my rifle at the ready, I headed down the passageway and found myself in a large room. From the looks of things, it was a workshop, storage room, and armory all wrapped up into one. I found plenty of ammunition for my weapons, as well as some salts, and even a box of infusions.

On the desk in the center of the room was a poster. It was mostly red in color, and depicted a young woman holding a rifle and had her hand out as if she wanted to help. The words 'Daisy Fitzroy hears your voice!' were at the top, along with a message for the reader to 'Join the Vox Populi'.

I wasn't entirely sure who these Vox Populi people were, but I'd heard whispers about them since I had gotten to Columbia. All I really knew was that the words were Latin, and they translated as Voice of the People, or something along those lines anyway. If they were enemies of Comstock, they weren't all that bad in my book.

Making my way back outside, I headed to the skyline, only to find that the line itself was blocked by several of those hanging boxcar things. I found the controls and gave the lever there a yank. A steam whistle blew, and the cars came streaming down the line, clearing out a path for me to move on.

Slinging both of my rifles over my back I took off at a sprint and activated my skyhook. In a flash, I was on the skyline, making my way up toward the Hall of Heroes. I had to jump between lines about half way up, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Reaching the top, I dismounted and found myself on the dock in front of the Hall.

The first thing I saw as I looked up was finding myself face to face with a wanted poster of Slate. He looked a lot better on the poster then he did in person. Hell, he still had hair on the poster for Christ's sake. The second thing I noticed was the music that playing. It was an old timey recording, and I realized that I recognized the song. It was 'Bonnie Blue Flag' the song that the Confederacy had first used at the start of the Civil War.

As I made my way forward I was a little confused. Was the song Slate's way of declaring his independence from Columbia? Was the song already a popular one because of the tendencies of the city to begin with? Did I really care enough to give a damn about any of this? The answer was no, no I did not. I was here for two things, Elizabeth, and the Shock Jockey, in that order.

I unslung my sniper rifle as I made it to the top of the stairs. There were several bodies strewn about, and they had been here long enough that the crows were starting to arrive. Someone had taken some red paint and repainted a sign saying 'Hall of Heroes' as 'Hall of Whores'. The angel statue above it had been painted so that it looked like a clown or something.

I didn't get the chance to study it much longer, as the sound of a rifle shot rang out. My shield shattered as it successfully stopped the bullet that would have otherwise torn into my shoulder. I instantly dove for cover at the base of a statue, looking for the sniper. A hint of movement, and the flash of scope glare caught my eye. I raised my own rifle and took aim, lining up the shot like I had been taught over and over again.

With the cross hairs lined up with the sniper's head, I exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. I watched through the scope as the man's head jerked back, his face obliterated by the bullet that hit him directly between the eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief, I came out of cover and walked up to the front doors of the Hall. I kicked them open, fully expecting to find a horde of Slate's men waiting for me.

Instead I found an automaton of George Washington, and a hall that was absolutely trashed. I kept the rifle at the ready, not sure what I was going to find. At the end of the hall, I passed through another set of doors and entered another large chamber. Although it was dark, I could clearly see the statue of Comstock brandishing his sword at the center. I walked forward and found a plaque located at the base of the statue reading 'Our Prophet, Father Comstock. Commander of the Seventh Calvary.'

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. This guy was no where near the Seventh," I said out loud. A spotlight suddenly shown down on me.

"Spoken like a true student of history!" came Slate's voice over the PA system. I held my hand up in an effort to block out the light.

"Slate, I presume?" I called out.

"You are different, Roberts. I've been watching you. You crave no glory."

"Look, man, all I want is the girl and I'll leave you be, that's it," I said.

"That tin soldier, Comstock, wants my boys dead. We won't die at HIS hands!" Slate declared. Oh, I so did not like where this was going.

"All my men have left is a choice: die at the hands of a tin soldier, or a real one!" A door off to my right suddenly burst open, and a group of men dressed in modified Columbian soldier uniforms came pouring out. My eyes went wide and I threw a fire grenade. The explosion ignited all but two of them like torches. I raised my rifle and fired off a couple of shots, finishing off the ones that hadn't been caught in the blast. It was all over before it really even began.

"You see? You see, you're a killer Samuel, like it or not!"

"Just give me Elizabeth!"

"First, you'll have to give my men a soldier's death. They wait for you at Wounded Knee and Peking." I let out a sigh and slid a new clip into my sniper rifle. My day was about to get a whole lot more bloody.

 **And that's a wrap. God willing and the creek don't rise the next chapter will be out much quicker. But that all depends on what the readers want. If people don't show interest, then my focus may shift away again. My hope is that this doesn't happen, as I'd like to get this story wrapped up. So with that in mind, drop a review, leave a PM, let me know what you guys liked or didn't like, and I'll see you all next time.**


	7. Beyond the Hall

**Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter! What's this? A new chapter within a month? Hell must be about to freeze over! If that's the case, best get on with it:**

I shouldered my sniper rifle and began using the carbine as I entered the rotunda. The circular room was quiet, accept for the creaking of a swaying chandelier overhead. In the center of the room was a circular time line describing the history of Columbia. There were a couple of dead bodies, both of them men. Based on the blood trails, they had been dragged to their current resting positions after they had been shot.

As I looked around, I realized that I had three options in terms of proceeding. To my left was a large hall with the words 'The Boxer Rebellion' over it. Opposite it was 'The Battle of Wounded Knee'. And directly ahead was 'The First Lady'. Slate's words had said that his men were waiting at Wounded Knee and Peking, which meant that no matter which direction I chose, I was walking into a trip.

With a deep breath, I started down the Boxer Rebellion hall. It was adorned with fake snow, fake buildings with Asian architecture, and even the old fashioned deception of Chinese people being used as a cheep jump scare. I got the distinct impression that this was more of a carnival attraction then a history exhibit.

"Ah, Peking. It was my hand that put the city to the torch. Of course, that's not how Comstock tells it," Slate said over the PA. I ignored him, along with all the other cheap stuff along this walk. As far as the Boxer Rebellion went, my knowledge was fairly limited. In fact, the only thing I'd really seen over the subject was the movie 'Fifty Five Days at Peking'. I don't know how historically accurate the movie was, but I was a hundred percent positive that it was way more accurate then what this place had to offer.

Continuing on, I found myself in a large round room. It was filled with cut out Boxers, all of them swarming toward a statue of Comstock. The statue was pointing a gun at the on coming Boxers from a seated position as if in a last stand of sorts. Above the statue was a mural of Columbia hanging in the sky with light shining from it as it seemed to come to the rescue.

"Always the hero, eh Comstock?" I said to myself as I looked over his statue.

"COMSTOCK WASN'T THERE! THE BOXERS TOOK MY EYE AND THIRTY OF MY FRIENDS, IS THERE EVEN A STONE TO MARK THAT SACRIFICE?!" Slate roared. My ears were ringing from the noise level. This Slate guy sure was passionate, I'll give him that.

"Fire Cleanses!" I looked up at the sound of the new voice, just in time to see the armored frame of a Fireman appear on a ledge above me. Gunfire filled the air as a few of Slate's men appeared from between the cutouts. I leveled my carbine and fired, squeezing the trigger again and again as I sprinted for cover.

A fireball exploded behind me, knocking me off my feet as I landed behind a fake rock. Sitting up, I slid a new magazine home and cocked the carbine. Coming out from behind the rock, I shot two men before sprinting across the room. The Fireman threw another fire grenade after me, but at the pace I was moving I was already well beyond it's blast radius by the time it exploded.

Coming up the ledge behind the Fireman and the two remaining gunmen, I threw out my hand and released a wave of Bucking Bronco. All three of them were left hovering about six feet off the ground. I quickly raised the carbine and unloaded it into the Fireman, firing every last shot in the clip to insure that he died.

The resulting explosion sent me flying backwards while at the same time incinerating all three men. With my head spinning, I slowly got to my feet and looked over my handiwork. Like the first one I had encountered, this Fireman had been reduced to little more then a pile of black bones and ash. His two companions were so badly burned that it would be impossible to identify them in any way.

"You see, young man? You're the kind of person Comstock wishes he was, a REAL soldier!" Slate said.

"All I want it the girl and the vigor, that's it!" I yelled.

"And you shall have them. Come and look for us amongst the Ghost Dancers." If I was a betting man, I would have bet that Slate was giving me the jerk around. But it wasn't like I had much of a choice, so I started back in the direction I had come. As I entered the Wounded Knee display, I felt my stomach churn. I may not have known much about the Boxers, but Wounded Knee was a subject I had covered for a project in high school. Battle wasn't the word I'd use to describe the event. Massacre was more like it.

Like the other display, the hall was adorned with with cutouts. Teepees with fires burning in them, dark native warrior silhouettes with glowing eyes, fake grass to represent the Dakota Prairie. I slid a fresh clip into my carbine as I watched for any possible enemies.

"The tin soldier has taken credit for the deeds of the real ones. Now I wonder, young man, what would you had done, had you been there on December 29, 1890?"

"I don't think you want to know, Slate," I answered. I continued on, ignoring the background noise of war drums and chants as they grew louder and louder. Finally I reached the main room at the end of the hall. Like the first one, this one had a statue of Comstock. Only here, he was holding a rifle aloft in victory.

 _ **'Our Prophet, Father Comstock. Hero of Wounded Knee.'**_ was inscribed at the base of the statue. I looked up at the stone face of the man that had basicly declared war on my entire existence with new found contempt. I didn't think it was possible to hate the guy even more then I already did. I was wrong it seemed.

"Should I tell her, Samuel? Should I tell your companion how I strode that battlefield like the hero of Sparta? I still hear the screams...does Comstock?" Like before, sections of grass slid away and more of Slate's men appeared in an ambush. I ducked into cover behind a large fake bolder and returned fire.

Bullets tore up the fake stone around my head, forcing me to duck for cover. I returned fire, forcing myself to keep my cool and pick them off one at a time like I was in a target match. Then the screech of birds filled the air. I turned, just in time to bring my rifle up and stop the downward strike from the Crow's sword. He yanked his blade free, tearing the gun from my hand before delivering a powerful kick to my chest.

I was forced onto my back, gasping as the air had been forced from my lungs. The Crow advanced, intending to finish me off. But I sent out a wave of Bucking Bronco, trapping him in mid air. Getting to my feet, I pulled out my sky hook and descended upon the man with the blades spinning, ignoring the birds that swarmed around his body. He screamed as his body was torn to bits by the machine, and I fell back to the floor, panting and covered in blood.

"You did them a favor, Samuel. You let them die like men," Slate said.

"They didn't have to die, you sent them to die," I replied.

"Heroes never ask..."

"I ain't no hero and neither are you, Slate," I said.

"Then what are we? If we take away all those parts that you would rather erase, what's left?" he asked.

 _'A dipshit and a crusty old war vet barley clinging to reality?'_ Not the time conscience.

"Come back to the rotunda...it's almost over." By God and all the Saints I sure as hell hoped so. Once again I found myself backtracking to where I had started. Based on what Slate had said, and the body count, I had probably torn through a good chunk of his men. Once I set foot in the rotunda, the PA system crackled to life again.

"I've got what you need, Samuel. You will find me past the First Lady's Memorial."

"Fuckin' better be," I muttered under my breath as I started toward the doors. They suddenly burst open, revealing three more of Slate's men. I threw a fire grenade and let them burn, I was out of patience and time dealing with these guys. Entering the First Lady Memorial, I was surprised at the difference in tone. Unlike the first two, this one was more refined, more revered, and more eloquently decorated. This was designed to honor, not mock, the person it was about.

"You've seen how Comstock has rewritten my history. Now see how he's rewritten his own," Slate said.

"Unless you're gonna give me what I want just shut up," I replied, no longer in the mood to hear his rants. I kept going, keeping my eyes out for enemies and ignoring most of my surroundings. It wasn't until I came into the next room that I actually gave pause. Overhead was a shining gold replica of the tower on Monument Island. A statue of Comstock was carrying a bundle toward the tower.

"'Lo, though Daisy Fitzroy has murdered my beloved, she shall not have the child! She shall not come betwixt her and Prophecy!" came a recording as a spotlight shone down on the Comstock statue. I looked back and forth between the statue and the model of the tower. It all clicked into place for me finally. I hadn't just freed a some kind of science experiment, I'd taken the man's daughter.

"The seed of the Prophet shall sit the thrown, and drown in flame the mountains of man!" My vision swam and I suddenly felt light headed. I managed to catch myself on the arch and kept myself from falling. Images raced past my eyes. Burning skyscrapers, fire falling from the sky, and that giant monstrosity Songbird tearing cops and soldiers to shreds.

As quickly as they started, the visions stopped. My head was pounding, and I realized that I could hear a dripping sound. Looking down between my boots, I noticed a growing red spot. I ran my bandaged left hand across my nose, wiping away the blood that had been dripping from there. Shaking my head, and confident that the bleeding had stopped, I continued on.

The next room was more of the same. More fountains, flowers, and statues. However, beyond that I hit a dead end. It was a rod iron gate guarding the entrance to a courtyard, several feet taller then I was, and no visible way of opening it. I kicked it a few times, but got no results. I was forced to backtrack and find a way onto the roof of the building.

What I saw in the courtyard below was enough to give me pause. There was some scaffolding around the courtyard. Several of Slate's men were standing around looking toward the center of the courtyard. Slate himself was standing next to Elizabeth. She had been boosted on top of a barrel with a noose around her neck. The rope was firmly tied to a crane arm overhead.

I crouched, slinging my carbine and unslinging my sniper rifle. Peering through the scope, I got a much better look at the scene below. Elizabeth was looking around with a scarred look in her eyes. The men were all shouting various things, either pointing at her or thrusting their fists into the air. Slate was among the calm ones, pointing and yelling at his men. The sound of engines passing overhead caused me to glance up.

A pair of gunships, not belonging to Slate, passed over the courtyard. One of them fired a rocket into the crowd, scattering those who weren't killed by the blast. I went back to watching through the scope. Thankfully the shock from the explosion didn't topple the barrel Elizabeth was standing on.

"It was SLATE who killed for his country at Wounded Knee, it was SLATE who stormed the gates of Peking! SLATE!" the man shouted at the ships passing overhead. That was it, I was done dealing with this guy. It was time to end this here and now. I lined up the crosshairs with the middle of Slate's forehead and began to squeeze the trigger, fully prepared to send him straight to hell.

The scenery through the scope suddenly changed. One moment, it's Slate's shiny bald head, and the next instant it's a glass jar filled with a beer colored liquid, containing a beating heart. Both of my eyes snapped open and I realized that there was a giant metal fist swinging at me. I reacted before I thought, swan diving from the roof of the building in order to dodge what was coming after me.

My rifle fell from my grasp as I grabbed by skyhook and squeezed the trigger. Rather then falling, I sailed through the air and latched onto a freight hook. The remainder of Slate's men in the courtyard looked up and noticed me, cause they raised their rifles and began to take aim at the hanging target I had become. I unslung my carbine and aimed it one handed at Slate. If I was going to die, he was coming with me.

None of us noticed the Handyman, evidently, as the giant metal gorilla thing landed right in the middle of them, squashing two into a red paste. It didn't stay put for very long as it jumped into the air again, climbing onto one of the roofs around the courtyard. Apparently, that monstrosity was more of a threat then I was, cause they all shifted their attention toward it.

"Tin man!" Slate shouted, pointing up at it. I fired one shot, hitting the man between the right shoulder blade and the spine. He stumbled from the shot, not completely going down and hurrying away from the fight.

I released my grip on the hook and fell into the middle of the fray. All the chaos was causing enough shaking that the barrel under Elizabeth's feet wobbled and then began to fall over. Terror filled her eyes as she realized that she was about to drop to her death. On pure instinct, I thrust out my hand and released a wave of Bucking Bronco.

Rather then fall, Elizabeth was elevated by the vigor. She looked at me with grateful eyes as she slipped the noose from around her neck. I returned the skyhook to my belt as the vigor wore off and she fell to the ground, landing on her feet. Taking her hand, I turned and began to run. Behind us, we could hear the screams from Slate's men as the Handyman tore them apart. Before we went back into the building, I scooped up my fallen rifle, and with that we left the courtyard behind.

Back inside, we found a blood trail, and it wasn't long after that we found Slate himself. He was slumped against the base of a fountain with a spotlight shining down on him. His hand was pressed over the gaping exit wound in his chest, and he was struggling to get a breath in. Beside him on the floor was the purple bottle of the vigor I had spent all night looking for.

As I reached for the bottle, Slate's other hand suddenly grasped mine. For a man so badly wounded, he surprisingly had a lot of strength left. Elizabeth gasped in surprise at his sudden movement. For a man who appeared to be on the verge of death, he sure was spry.

"You're not done here, soldier! Eat everything that's on your plate, finish it!" he shouted in my face.

"Get off me!" I shouted back, breaking his grip before hitting him in the face with the butt of my carbine. His head rolled back from the blow, with blood now freely flowing from his nose and mouth.

"Sam!" Elizabeth cried in horror.

"No! After everything he's done, he doesn't deserve a quick death!" I replied in anger as I looked down on him.

"Sam, let him live or let him die, I don't care. We need to go, now, before that thing outside follows us," Elizabeth said. She was right, we needed to leave. I pushed Slate's arm out of the way and picked up the vigor bottle. Slate chuckled, which between his bleeding mouth and chest wound it sounded more like a gurgle.

"The girl is right Roberts. I've been watching...you for a while now. A man..out of time...in more ways then one," he said. With that he turned his attention to Elizabeth.

"I wonder, young lady...do you know who you travel with?" he asked.

"No one cares about me. Just like no one cares about you, Slate. You've lost, and after tonight, no one will remember you," I said with venom in my voice. Despite this, he smiled up at me.

"Spoken...like a true student of history," he gasped, "One way...or another Roberts...you've killed me." He was right, he didn't have long to live with that wound through his middle. Whether I let him bleed or put a bullet in his skull right now, it didn't matter. Either way, I was the one that killed him. I stood and cocked the carbine once, insuring that there was a round in the chamber. Slate smiled again as he took the muzzle in his grasp and pressed it to his forehead.

"A real soldier," he said with pride in his voice, just before I squeezed the trigger. His body jerked back and slumped over, blood splattering all over the fountain. I slung the carbine over my shoulder before I stood and looked the bottle of Shock Jockey over. It was a royal purple color with a silver man riding a lightning bolt like a horse jockey in the Kentucky Derby as the cork.

"After all that, this had better be worth it," I said before I yanked the cork and downed it all in one go. It tasted like grape, yet popped in your mouth like that candy that you mix with Coca Cola. I watched as crystals grew from my palms and pulled toward each other like they had a magnetic charge. Arcs of electricity danced back and forth between them. After a moment, the current stopped and the crystals shattered, returning my hands to normal.

Ordinary I would have been excited by this. Fire and lightning abilities? I was living out the daydreams of my childhood here. But Slate had put a damper in my mood, and with Comstock's guys closing in, it was time to get out of here.

"I suppose it was a mercy, killing him," Elizabeth said as we walked back through the Hall.

"Yeah," I replied absentmindedly.

"What did Slate mean? 'A man out of time in more ways then one?'" she asked. I didn't answer her. At least not right away. We were back in the rotunda now, and I paused as I looked down the Wounded Knee exhibit. I'd been looking for a way to start this conversation, and now it seemed I had one.

Digging into my pocket, I dug out my phone and wallet and tossed them both to Elizabeth. She looked over them both before looking back at me in confusion.

"What's this?" she asked, holding up the cell.

"It's a phone. But it got waterlogged so it doesn't work anymore," I explained.

"And this is your wallet, I assume," she said as she opened it and saw my drivers license on display.

"That would be correct."

"I've never seen a...wait...the dates, those can't be right," she said, looking up at me. I just gave her a blank, tired stare. She looked back down at the card.

"This can't be right. According to this, you were born in 1994," she said.

"I was."

"Sam. That's impossible, that would mean..."

"You're running around in a flying city with a guy who has superpowers as a companion. Is it really so hard to believe that someone is from the future?" I asked. She looked at me, and back at the objects in her hand again. Finally she handed them back to me.

"If this is true, what year are you from?" she asked.

"2015."

"Okay. Funny enough, this is not the strangest thing to happen to me today," she said.

"What does that say about us?" I asked with a tired grin, which she returned. And with that, we left the Hall of Heroes for the last time. Outside we found pure, utter chaos.

The last of Slate's men were fighting the Columbian troops. Overhead, the flaming wreckage of the _Redemption_ floated by, having been brought down by the Columbians. Elizabeth and I took cover behind a pillar and waited with me picking off the survivors of the various firefights with my sniper rifle.

After that, it was a surprisingly easy trip back into Soldier's Field. Comstock's men had moved forward to secure the Hall, leaving us free to slip past unnoticed. That was, until, we entered the station area where I had found Bucking Bronco. We heard it before we saw it, large metal feet stamping on stone floor.

From around the corner came a giant robot thing shaped like George Washington. It turned to regard us, along with the Gatling gun it was carrying in it's hands.

"My aim is true, for my eye is the Prophet's!" it declared in a mechanical voice before it spun the handle on the side of it's weapon. My eyes went wide before I grabbed Elizabeth and drug her out of the way. Heavy machine gun fire tore up the spot we had been standing just a moment earlier.

"Great, how do we beat this thing?" she asked. I glanced out of cover, looking the room over very quickly, ducking when another burst of gunfire almost took my head off. Not far from the mechanical nightmare was a large puddle of water on the floor where a pipe had burst when Slate's men had trashed this place.

"I have a terrible idea," I said as I slung both rifles over my back, freeing up my hands. My target was the partially open ticket booth off to our right.

"How terrible?" Elizabeth asked. Rather then answer her, I jumped out of cover and waved my arms into the air.

"Look at me, I'm a target!" I shouted before sprinting toward the booth. The robot thing opened fire on me, and I felt my shield flare a couple of times. I dove head first through the booth, taking cover from the hail of bullets that was following me. The clank of metal footsteps told me that terminator Washington was coming after me.

Standing up, I saw that the machine was clomping it's way toward me, right through the puddle of water. I let the Shock Jockey fly, and got instant results. The machine locked up as the current passed through it. It's head twisted one way, then the other, before finally exploding in a shower of sparks. With that, it fell forward with an almighty crash and lay smoking on the floor.

I looked on in awe, mainly in disbelief that the plan had worked. Truth be told, I was fully expecting to walk away from this thing looking like a slice of Swiss cheese. Elizabeth mush have been thinking the same thing, cause she was giving me the same look. In silence, we stepped into the elevator at the end of the room and I slammed my fist into the button.

We rode in silence for a moment before she slugged me in the arm, hard. I gave her a look as I rubbed the spot where she had hit me.

"Don't ever do something stupid like that again," she said.

"Have you been paying attention so far? I can't exactly make that promise," I replied. She huffed, but otherwise remained silent. Finally the doors opened with a ding, and we stepped out into Soldier's Field. The entire place was deserted, and the fires from earlier had been put out. Over all, it looked like an abandoned war zone rather then the play land it had been hours earlier.

"So do you believe me?" I asked as we walked toward the Gondola.

"I don't know just yet. I read some books on science and physics while I was in my tower," she said.

"And what did that teach you?"

"That there is a world of difference between what we see, and what is," she said, looking at me with a gleam in her eye. With that, we were finally back at the point where this little chaotic fetch quest had started. I zapped the glass domed machine and slammed the lever home. I was rewarded with the sound of machinery powering up, and the creak of giant spools as they pulled their cables in.

"The gondola is coming!" Elizabeth said, confirming what everything else was telling me. I smiled, finally, FINALLY, we were getting out of here. I could see the light at the end of this chaotic bloodstained tunnel. That is, until I heard the sound of a gunship PA being activated.

 _'Ha! That's what you get for jumping the gun like that.'_ Oh fuck off conscience.

"He will abandon you, my sweet Elizabeth! Once he has what he needs, he will leave you alone. What else can you expect from a liar and killer of women?" came Comstock's voice, echoing off of the buildings. I felt my blood boil at that.

"Father...Prophet...whatever you are called. I'm leaving and there is naught you can do to stop me," Elizabeth declared. My smile returned at that. She was just as tired of this place as I was.

"Oh sweet child. That's where you're wrong." With that, a pair of gunships that had been hovering around the mooring of the airship turned and began to head toward us. I watched as one of them banked close to us, carrying a pair of men waiting suits of armor and having rocket launchers on their shoulders.

"Stay here!" I shouted to Elizabeth before drawing my skyhook. I ran to the edge and jumped, attaching to the hook on the side of the gunship. I dismounted from the hook, slamming my full body weight into one of the armored men. He lost his balance and was sent screaming into the clouds below.

I didn't give the second man a chance to react as I hit him with a blast of Shock Jockey before running and sticking the barrel of my carbine into the slit on his visor. I squeezed the trigger a good three to five times, effectively turning his head into a paste. There was no time to celebrate my victory, however, as a rocket screeched over my head. I looked, just in time to see the rocket guys on the other gunship fire.

Their rockets closed the distant between the two craft in less then a second, smashing into the wheelhouse at the back. Fire and explosions belched from the craft, and I struggled to keep my balance as it listed badly to one side. I was forced to jump as the gunship began to go down, activating my skyhook again and attaching to the skyline that circled the area.

I rode it as fast as I could, the wind stinging my eyes as I went around corners at a high rate of speed. This gave the last gunship a chance to unload its crew; the two rocket guys, a few regular troopers, and another one of those robo-Washingtons.

The troopers jumped onto the skyline with me, intending to cut me off. I detached from the line and brought up my sniper rifle. One by one, the men fell from the skyline, having taken a bullet from my rifle. Another rocket whizzed past my head, gaining my attention for my next target. The rocket troops hadn't jumped ship, probably because of their armor.

I jumped back onto the skyline, riding it around until I passed overhead of the gunship. Detaching again, I fell and used on of the armored figures as a landing cushion. I threw a fire grenade at the second man, boiling him in his own suit of armor. While the first man began to get back up, I was forced to duck as a hail of bullets almost decapitated me.

It was the robot thing, standing on the dock and shooting up at me. I looked around in a frantic motion. There was no water, and I was starting to run low on salts and ammo. That, and the clockwork dick had me pinned down.

"I got this!" came Elizabeth's voice. There was an ear shattering noise, and then the sound of two heavy machine guns firing at the same time. I didn't have time to see what was going on as I was focused on the rocket trooper that had just regained his footing in front of me. Sending out a wave of Bucking Bronco, I suspended the guy in mid air before running forward and planting both feet into his chest plate. He was sent screaming into the clouds, unable to save himself.

With that, I noticed the silence. Looking over the side of the gunship, I was greeted with the sight of not one, but two giant robots lying dead on the dock. Both of them were completely shot full of holes, and from the looks of things had killed each other in a hail of gunfire. Jumping back down to the dock, I looked around, exhausted now from the extra effort.

"Where did that thing come from?" I asked Elizabeth as she came out of her hiding spot.

"I'll tell you later. Come on, the gondola is here," she said. Sure enough, the craft was here. We shared a smile and happily boarded, with me throwing the lever that started the craft toward the airship.

"If you don't mind me asking, I got another question for you," she said. I gave a tired wave, indicating that she could ask if she wanted.

"On the beach, you kept saying someone's name, Courtney," she said.

"I don't want to talk about that," I said, a little too quickly.

"I'm sorry..I shouldn't have pried..."

"No. No it's..." I sighed, "you remember asking me if I had a woman in my life?"

"Yes?"

"Her name was Courtney. She was killed in a shooting accident," I said with sorrow in my voice.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she said. I felt tears well up as I thought back to that night, but quickly fought them back. This wasn't the time to lose it. Not now, not when we were so close to the end. The gondola came into it's station and we stepped out. As we went forward, it became clear that the whole place was deserted, which suited me just fine.

Inside we found an elevator, which we promptly boarded. I slammed my fist into the button and we were on our way up.

"Looks like they call you the False Shepard," Elizabeth said, noticing a poster on the wall.

"And you the lamb," I countered. She cringed.

"Let's not call each other that," she said. I shrugged as the doors opened, revealing the massive purple frame of _The First Lady._ I've said it before and I'll say it again, I've never been so happy to see a balloon in all my life. The inside of the ship was fancy nice. There were books on the walls, benches, and even a fancy looking Captain's chair in front of the controls.

I fiddled with the controls some as we detached from the mooring and began to fly off in a random direction. It took a little bit of playing, but I was able to figure out how to enter a heading. Based on what I had seen, these things flew toward the coordinates entered into the console. I didn't know what the numbers were for Paris, or any other place for that matter, so I was basally just standing there entering random numbers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that despite the fact we had made it to the end, Elizabeth was looking down, like someone had kicked her puppy.

"You alright?" I asked.

"It's just...if what you said is true, about you being from the future, after this I won't see you again," she said. Oh. I looked down at the console and slid a few hand tools away from me.

"Truth be told, I thought you might like that," I answered. She looked at me like I had just grown a second head.

"What? Why, why would you think that?" she asked.

"I'm not exactly a saint here, Elizabeth," I said, motioning toward my soot and bloodstained clothes. She looked down and caught my meaning.

"As messed up as it may sound, I actually kind of like someone acting like a knight in shining armor for me," she said. Now it was my turn to give her a look.

"I wouldn't exactly call this a knightly duty," I said. She stepped a little closer to me.

"Still, what you did back there in the Hall of Heroes. Thank you, for coming after me," she said before planting a kiss on my cheek. She turned away quickly, hiding her face from me. Not that I cared, considering my face was suddenly very hot and probably the color of a ketchup bottle.

This, this wasn't right. It was time travel 101, don't fall for someone from a different time. It never ended well. But, then again, I highly doubted that Elizabeth was related to me in some way, shape or form. Of course, I had only just met her.

 _'Oh Jesus Christ, fall in love with her or don't. Pick one already.'_ Seriously not helping.

"Elizabeth, I..." I trailed off as I noticed movement outside of the airship. A few gunships with red coloring on them were moving into position around us. I noticed someone level a rocket launcher at us.

"GET DOWN!" I yelled before throwing my charge to the floor. The rocket stuck the airship with a massive bang. An adjustable wrench that had been sitting on the console was sent flying, straight into the forehead of yours truly.

I hit the floor, hard, with my last coherent thought questioning why this damn shield of mine couldn't stop hand tools.

 **And cut. So a little bit more about Sam has been reviled. What do you guys think? What's the connection here? Drop a review, leave a PM, let me know what you liked or didn't like and I'll see you all next time.**


	8. Into Finkton

**Hey guys, back with a new chapter here. Wow, three chapters within the span of a month, I'm on a roll. Let's get on the road, shall we?**

I came too hanging from a doorway about fifty feet in the air. For those of you who haven't had the joy of doing this, let me just say it's not as fun as it may seem.

"Gah, fuck!" At first, I thought I was falling, and had the unpleasant joy of waking up right before I hit the ground. Below me were several prisoners, all of them wearing black and white striped jumpsuits. They were swinging sledgehammers, breaking up large piles of stone which had seemed to be placed there just for that purpose.

As my head cleared, and the headache from where the wrench had hit me began to set in, I realized that I wasn't actually falling, but flying. Or dangling, to be more exact. I was passing over some kind of flying prison barge. Standing on a raised platform above the prisoners was a man supporting a sniper rifle. He liked like the stereotypical prison guard watching over a chain gang, wide brimmed hat, stoic face, tinted goggles which hid his eyes.

"Daisy, fresh air did the trick. This one's awake," said a gruff male voice from behind my head. I felt myself being dragged backwards and then turned around. The inside of the _First Lady_ had been converted into a makeshift field hospital with wounded scattered about. I was being held by a buff black man wearing white and red. A quick glance around told me that Elizabeth wasn't on board. I also realized that I had been disarmed, with all my guns and gear being kept in a duffel bag nearby.

"So you're this False Shepard we been hearin' so much about," said a young woman who was crouched, tending to one of the wounded.

"That's what they keep telling me," I replied. The woman stood, and I was able to get a better look at her. She was beautiful in her own right, though no where near as good looking at Elizabeth. Her coal black hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and her mocha colored skin was flawless. Those brown eyes were some of the most intense I had ever seen, filled with passion and intelligence. She was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up the elbows, a red bandanna which hung loose around her neck, and a pair of olive drab trousers held up by some suspenders.

"You've been causin a whole mess of trouble," she said as wiped off her hands and stepped toward me. Now that she moved into the morning sunlight a little more, I was finally able to recognize her. I'd seen her face a time or two on some posters, both supporting her and calling for her death.

"You Fitzroy?" I asked.

"Nothin but," she replied, placing a hand on her hip and striking a pose as if to show off.

"Look, I got nothing against you guys. But this is my airship you're danglin' me out of and I still got need of it," I said.

"Really? Cause this sure look like ole Comstock's ship to me," Fitzroy countered.

"I acquired it as reparations for what he's done to me."

"And what about the rest of us? Where are our reparations, huh?" she asked. I sighed, realizing that this was going no where.

"Which side are you on, Roberts? Comstock is the god of the white man, the rich man, the pitiless man. But if you believe in the common folk, then join the Vox. If you believe in the righteous folk, then join the Vox," she said, starting on a little rant as if she was going to convince me to join her little Revolution.

Now I'm not going to lie, I did seriously give it some thought. Fitzroy and her Vox Populi, from what I had seen, advocated for a lot of what I believed in. Equal treatment for all, equal opportunity for all. After the things I'd seen and been through in this city, I was more then ready to burn it all to the foundations and start anew. But there was one thing that was primarily keeping me from doing this.

Elizabeth.

It wasn't just about getting back to my home or fulfilling that debt that I owed anymore. I'd promised Elizabeth that I would get her out of here, get her to Paris or wherever she chose to go. And I always keep my promises one way or another.

"I ain't some star eyed kid who can be persuaded with words, Daisy. All I want is my ship to get out of this festering hole of a town," I said.

"And the Vox shall give her to you. But first, you must help the Vox," Daisy said, her demeanor changing from recruiter to negotiator in an instant. I rolled my eyes, not in the least bit surprised.

"Why does that not surprise me?" I asked. Fitzroy raised an eyebrow, but didn't give a retort. Rather, she held aloft a business card between two fingers.

"Down in Finkton, there's a gunsmith who can supply weapons to our cause," she said as she slid the card into my shirt pocket, "Get our guns from him, and you shall have your ship back."

"Hey, hold up. There was a girl with me, what did you guys do with her?" I asked. Daisy looked at her subordinate who was still hanging on to me. He shook his head in response to the unspoken question.

"There was no girl here when we boarded. She must have jumped ship," Daisy said. Well, at least that was one less thing she could use to hold over me.

"Any other questions?"

"Did you want me to bill Comstock for the guns or...?" I asked. Daisy simply nodded at her man, who promptly let me go. I fell backwards from the open airship hatch screaming before landing hard on my back. As I lay there, trying to decide if my back was broken, a duffle bag was dropped from the hatch, which landed next to my head. At least the assholes gave me my stuff back.

 _'Fucking fetch quests!'_ Not now conscience. Spots danced in my vision as I rolled over and managed to get to my feet. Nothing was broken, and I could still move, so that was a plus. I watched as Fitzroy sailed off with the _First Lady,_ leaving me standing there like a slack jawed idiot. Just for that, I wasn't sure if I quite liked the Vox anymore.

After unpacking and reapplying my gear, I took a good look at my surroundings. I was standing on some docks, and some very lively ones at that. Cranes moved crates around, massive gears and clockwork turned, and workers of all colors either scrubbed the deck or hammered away on something.

At first, I thought they had all been lobotomized or something, given the way they all moved in time. But then I took a closer look, and realized that they were just tired. These men were overworked and exhausted, and the repetition was the only thing keeping them going. Working conditions sucked for everyone in 1912, I could only imagine what it must have been like for these guys.

I found myself having an argument of sorts with myself. My morality side told me to do something about this, and then my realistic and rational side would respond with 'like what?'. Sure I had guns and these Vigors and the skills to use them, but at the end of the day there was very little if anything I might have been able to do to change things. Still, as much as I wanted to help the workers' plight or whatever bullshit Fitzroy might have labeled it, I had things to do. Namely, finding Elizabeth and getting my airship back. In that order. Which meant that these crappy conditions would be left to Fitzroy and her gang of followers.

Rounding a corner, I found my path blocked by a pair of toppled shipping containers. From the looks of things, a crane had failed and the containers had been knocked to the dock. One of them had split open and spilled its shipment of Shock Jockey everywhere. Purple liquid covered the deck, along with jagged crystals and arcs of lightning.

 _'Really? Where was all this earlier?!'_ I have to agree with that. I could have used just a tiny bit of this in order to avoid the whole debacle with Slate. But, there's no use in crying over spilled milk, or Shock Jockey in this case. I found a way around the electrical death trap the scene had become and continued on my marry way.

Reaching a boxcar style door, I began to pry the door open when I realized that there was no other way forward. It took a lot more effort then I would have thought, but still I managed to get it open just wide enough for me to slip through. I looked up, and couldn't believe my eyes. Elizabeth was there, right in front of me, laying on the dock like she had just been thrown down.

"You wanna know what we do to little stowaways like yourself?" A man asked as he advanced on her. He was flanked on either side by two of his pals. All of them were sweaty, looking at Elizabeth hungrily, and easily dwarfed the poor girl. Getting to her feet, Elizabeth took off at a sprint. The men went after her, like wolves chasing down their prey.

"HEY!" I took off after them, cocking my carbine as I went. I didn't want to take a shot at the men, because if I missed I stood a chance at hitting Elizabeth. The chase continued on, right up until it ended in a solid white brick wall. They had her cornered, or so they thought. Elizabeth threw out her arms, opening a tear which allowed her to run through the wall.

Straight into the arms of a pair of Colombian soldiers.

"It's the Lamb, call it in!" one of them shouted as they grabbed her just before the tear snapped closed. Elizabeth's would be rapists came to a halt, dumbstruck at what they had just seen. I leveled my carbine and fired three times, shooting them each in the kneecap. Ordinarily I would have done much, much worse to them. But time was running out. They had Elizabeth, and I needed to get her back.

Looking around, I spotted a door off to my right. Going through it, I found myself back outside and on a platform overlooking the spot where they had Elizabeth. The girl was giving it all she had, fighting back against her two captors. One of the soldiers had enough of her struggling and stuck her, hard. Elizabeth fell to the floor, clutching her cheek and sobbing.

I felt my blood boil and saw red. Reinforcements for these guys were coming, but suddenly I didn't care. All I cared about was tearing these guys limb from limb. Shouldering my carbine, I drew the sniper rifle and lined up a shot with the man who had hit Elizabeth. My aim was low, on purpose, the bullet striking him in the crotch.

He screamed as his manhood was shredded, but that also alerted all of his buddies to my presence. I moved like a cold, well oiled machine, picking them off one by one. One of them, one of the two who had captured Elizabeth actually, jumped onto a skyline and took off, trying to make his escape. I lined up the crosshairs on my scope with his head and squeezed the trigger, only for the rifle to give off a single click, signifying it was empty.

Sliding a new clip into the rifle, I drew my skyhook and followed him. We didn't go far, just around the corner of the building to another dock. He was running away, trying to put some distance between the line and himself when I landed. I leveled the rifle and fired it from the hip, causing the man to stumble and fall as the bullet tore through his lower abdomen.

"Enough of this running bullshit..." I muttered as I stalked forward, working the bolt on the rifle. A giant metal hand suddenly appeared out of no where and smacked me in the face, knocking me flat on my back. The rifle slid well out of my grasp.

"FALSE SHEPARD!" I looked up just in time to see a Handyman land on the dock right above me. It picked me up like I was a ragdoll and threw me straight into the side of a shipping container that was suspended from a crane. I clawed at the wood on top of the crate, struggling to find a grip. Just as I found one and stopped myself from falling, I took notice of the Handyman.

It picked up a large metal disk and threw it like a frisbee, slicing the rope that held one end of the crate. I was left screaming as the crate fell suddenly, but managed to catch a small grip on the edge of the crate's now wide open door. It's contents spilled out into the cloud bank, hurdling toward the ground twenty thousand feet below. My fingers screamed in agony as they started to come loose. I struggled to keep a grip, but couldn't and began to plummet toward the earth far below.

Only to land on an airship that had appeared in a flash of light. Survival instinct kicked in, and I clawed at anything I could to stop myself from falling again. Finding a set of rope, I grabbed it and held on for dear life, finally stopping my fall. Looking up, I saw Elizabeth standing on the edge of a dock, looking down at me with tears in her eyes. They weren't tears of sadness, but joy. She looked relieved, the most I have ever seen in someone in my entire life.

"Sam?"

"Who else?" I asked.

"What are you doing up there?"

"Hanging around," I answered.

 _'Boo! Bad Sam, go to your room and think about what you just did!'_

"I mean what happened? I thought you were..." she trailed off. By now I had risen high enough so that I was level with the dock. Swinging back and forth, I launched myself from the rope and landed next to her. Immediately she embraced me in a spine crushing hug, which I all to happily returned.

"I'm sorry I left. You were down and those people were coming on board..." she sobbed into my chest. I rubbed my hand up and down her spine.

"It's alright. In fact, you did exactly what I wanted you to do," I said.

"Huh?"

"You think I want you to stick around and get captured on my part? Push comes to shove I want you to run and never look back," I told her.

"But..."

"No. Elizabeth, no matter what they cannot capture you. I won't let that happen, not even for me," I said. She still looked a little shaken, but determined now.

"O..Okay," she said. I finally took a moment to look around and realized that we weren't on the same dock as before. Rather we were in front of the Finkton Worker Induction Center. Well that's what the giant sign that hung on the front of the building called it anyway.

"What happened to the airship?" she asked as she handed me my sniper rifle back and I slung it over my shoulder.

"The Vox have got it. We need to make a connection for them to get it back."

"A connection?"

"A gunsmith. Get him to make their guns, we get the ship," I said. Elizabeth gave me a skeptical look, but didn't press the matter. We continued on into the building, which seemed to be like a large old fashioned bank in design. Hanging on the wall was an advertisement for a gunsmith named Chen Lin. I pulled the card out and looked it over. Sure enough, this was the guy we were looking for.

As we walked into the main hall, we took notice of a large crowd that had gathered at the far end of the room. There were a few cops posted, along with one of those automatons. Signs that hung from the wall and the robot itself both made it very clear that Finkton was no longer hiring.

"Now how are we gonna get in?" Elizabeth asked when she realized what was going on. I cocked my eyebrow at her as if it was obvious.

"Illegally. Duh." We slipped past the crowd, using them as a shield from the cops before heading down a stairway and though a door. The employee area we found ourselves in was a little better then the hall upstairs, but not by much. There was a service elevator somewhere down there, as evidenced by the sign that pointed down toward it.

"That elevator will take us down into Finkton," Elizabeth said, starting forward. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back into cover behind a pillar.

"And get us killed in the process," I said, motioning to the center of the room. Standing in the exact center was a Patriot. It's gears were whirling as it scanned for any unauthorized personnel. Having been on the receiving end of one of those things before, I was not looking forward for what was coming next.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Can't go in through the door, kick it down," I answered as I unslung my sniper rifle. Lining up a shot with the exposed gears on the thing's back. Once I fired, there wasn't a doubt that the cops upstairs would hear the shot. But right now, that giant robot was my primary concern. It was far more dangerous then anyone else.

I squeezed the trigger, firing my first round. The rifle bucked as the bullet struck the gears. I racked the bolt and fired again. Now sparks and bits were flying from the Patriot. It's movements were rigid and not as smooth as they should have been. But it was still active, and was now turning toward me. I fired a third time, and this time had success. The bullet tore through the gear housing in it's chest before exploding out the front of the machine. Black smoke poured from it as it fell to the floor lifeless.

"That'll bring trouble," I muttered. Sure enough, several cops came pouring down the stairwell. But most of them were armed with clubs, and I made short work of them with a combination of Devil's Kiss and Shock Jockey. With that done, we made our way down and found the elevator we were looking for.

As I hit the call button and reloaded my weapons, Elizabeth took to browsing through some nearby lockers in for any possible supplies. There was a little cash, but not much else in terms of useful things. That is, until she reached the last locker.

"Sam, this is Slate's Locker. He must have worked here," she said as she opened it and began to dig through. I wasn't really paying attention. If it was anything like my locker was in high school, it would just be full of crap that had been thrown in it on a passing trip. However, that didn't seem to be the case as she came up with a small book.

"It's my mother's diary, why would Slate have this?" she asked after flipping through a few pages. I shrugged in response. How he had gotten it, I have no idea. But if he did have it, that might explain why he'd gone off the rails like he had.

"'My husband claims the child was made from whole cloth by divine will. I am a believer, but I am no fool. His...bastard...shall not be raised under this roof,'" she read, "my mother, SHE had me locked in that tower." I frowned. Something didn't quite add up to me. I'd seen all that machinery in the base of the tower, all that work that had gone into studying and understanding what made Elizabeth tick. There was more at play here then some woman's suspicion of her husband committing adultery.

"Elizabeth..."

"I just want to get out of here, please," she said. I remained quiet as the elevator finally arrived. We stepped on and I slammed my fist into the button. As we began our decent, the speakers in the elevator came to life. Rather then music, it was Fink's voice in a recording.

 _"_ _Greetings! My name is Jeremiah Fink, and I want to share with you my personal creed."_

"Swindle everyone and take all the profits for yourself," I muttered, earning a snicker from Elizabeth. It continued like this for the majority of the way down. The recording would continue to play, I'd make sarcastic responses, Elizabeth would laugh. Good times. When the recording finally stopped playing, the elevator came to a halt with a small bump. A phone hanging on the wall began to ring, causing Elizabeth and I to look at each other.

"Maybe you should get that," she said after a second ring. I pressed a button on the side of the phone.

"Uh, hello?"

 _"_ _Mr. Roberts?"_ It was a female voice on the other end of the line. I looked at Elizabeth again, who had tucked her hair behind her ear and was leaning in to listen.

"Yes?"

 _"_ _Hold for Mr. Fink, please."_

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked. I shrugged, equally confused as she was.

 _"_ _Roberts? Fink here. Listen, my boy, we've had our eye on you for a while now and I can tell you, you are our top candidate. Top! Now, my associate, Mr. Flambaeu will help you with anything you need."_ With that, the line went dead, leaving Elizabeth and myself to look at each other in a bewildered fashion.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

"Not a clue."

"He seems oddly pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Roberts," she said, making it clear she was teasing. With a bump, the elevator started it's decent again. We watched as a massive golden statue of Fink came into view. I couldn't help but let out a whistle at the sight. I mean, there's narcissism, and then there's this. Not many people can say they've had their ass enshrined in gold.

"Man's got an ego," Elizabeth said.

"Or he's compensating for something," I added. We looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Both," we said at the same time. When the doors finally opened, we found ourselves being waited on by a man, or woman, I couldn't tell by the haircut.

"Mr. Roberts, welcome to Finkton. You'll find a variety of supplies here to help you during your visit," he said, his voice confirming he was male. This must have been the Flambaeu Fink was talking about.

"What does Mr. Fink want with us?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sorry miss, Mr. Fink's business is strictly with the gentleman."

"But why..."

"So sorry, but any questions regarding the gentleman's application will have to be taken up directly with Mr. Fink," Flambaeu said. I began to look the things over. There were Salts, a health pack, a purse filled with cash, and to top it all off, a rather large revolver with a shoulder holster.

Taking off my pair of pistols and setting aside my carbine, I eagerly put the new revolver on and began to test it out to get a feel for it. My uncle had been a trick shooter in one of those historical reenactment museums. Every Saturday during the summer months we'd go and see him in action, and I had learned to use the older style guns fairly well.

I didn't really want to part with my pistols, or my carbine, but carrying this would lighten my load. Not to mention that this thing had way more power then the pistols did. I could tell that just by looking at the size difference in bullets.

"Does this seem good to you? It doesn't seem good to me," Elizabeth said. I twirled the revolver a few times before returning it to it's holster.

"Swindle and take all for yourself, right?" I asked. She smiled at that and we stepped out into the Plaza of Zeal. There was some kind of raffle going on, only it was for jobs not items. We gave them a wide berth and made our way to the gunsmiths.

Inside the shop, there was nothing but the noise of machines as they worked. Making our way up a set of stairs, we found a shrine sitting near the top. There were lotus petals, candles, a dragon statue, and a bust of Buddha.

"I've read about this, that's Gautama Buddha" Elizabeth said in wonder as she looked the shine over.

"Just when I thought everyone in this city had drunk the kool aid," I muttered. This earned me a weird look from Elizabeth.

"Let me guess, future reference?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry," I said, rubbing the back of my head. We continued to the top of the stairs to find the machines, but no gunsmith. In fact, there was no one here at all.

"Hellooooooo?" I called over the noise of the machines. My call was rewarded with the sound of sobbing coming from downstairs. Elizabeth and I shared a look before starting our way back down. There was a short Asian woman standing in front of the Buddha statue, her hands folded in prayer while she sobbed. This must have been the gunsmith's wife.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you but we're looking for Mr. Lin, Mr. Chen Lin?" I asked. The woman continued to cry as if nothing had been said at all.

"Sam..." Elizabeth started.

"Mr. Lin not here...he...gone," the woman finally choked out in broken English.

"Gone?"

"They came. Flying Squad. I pray Gautama Buddha. Pray give husband back, give back to May Lin," she said.

"Where did they take him?" Elizabeth asked.

"Club. Everyone take to Good Time Club," Miss Lin answered before she broke down crying again and returned to her praying. I looked to Elizabeth and nodded my head once to the side, silently telling her it was time to go. We went down the stairs, leaving the sobbing woman in peace.

"Who are the Flying Squad?" Elizabeth asked when we were back at the bottom of the stairs.

"Cops or troopers, probably trying to figure out how connected Lin and Fitzroy are," I said.

"Isn't Fitzroy who WE'RE working for?" I made an iffy motion with my hand.

"Working for is such a strong phrase. I prefer the term favor for a favor," I answered. Stepping back outside of the shop, I came to a halt and looked around the square we were in. This Good Time Club had to be around here somewhere. But as I looked, I began to realize something. There weren't as many people about, even though we hadn't been inside all that long.

Something didn't feel right. As I stepped out into the street, I felt like I was stepping out for a duel at high noon. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt goosebumps raise on my arms. My eyes were drawn to two men who had been standing a little ways down the street by a checkpoint, talking to each other.

Suddenly a large form dropped from the rooftops, crushing them beneath it's feet. The Handyman from earlier was back, and this time it was determined to finish what it had started. I raised my hand, throwing out a bolt of Shock Jockey. It didn't even so much as phase the metal monster, as it raised its hands and threw a wave of electricity right back.

I ducked and rolled, dodging the attack before coming up with my revolver. I fanned the hammer, emptying the weapon at the Handyman. It just held its arms up, blocking its face as the bullets bounced off of its metal frame. As I broke open the pistol and let the spent shells fall to the ground, I took notice of a turret behind the Handyman.

Throwing out my hand again, I watched as the green mist of Possession sailed through the air and enveloped the machine. Instantly a warning bell chimed to life, and the turret opened up on the Handyman's back. Turning, the metal monster descended upon the automated machine gun, tearing it apart in anger.

This gave me valuable time to reload. I snapped the revolver closed and spun the cylinder before returning it to it's holster. Drawing my sniper rifle, I began to study the monster through the scope as it finished tearing up the turret. The entire thing was made of metal, except for its head, and the big glowing target that was the jar with it's heart.

One of those two things had to be the way to take this big bastard down. Taking a breath to steady my aim, I lined up a shot with the back of the Handyman's head. I squeezed the trigger and watched as the pale bald head snapped forward from the force of the bullet impacting it. Then I watched as the Handyman slowly turned and looked at me with murder in it's eyes. I opened both of my eyes as it dawned on me that I had picked the wrong target.

All I had done was piss it off.

"Shit." The Handyman jumped forward, gabbed me up, and threw me into a nearby brick wall. I landed on a tin roof, and realized that I was on the awning of the gun shop. My rifle had been knocked from my grip, leaving me to draw my revolver again. The metal beast jumped and landed on the roof as well before it began advancing on me. I was on the edge of the roof, with the actual edge just to my right. I began sliding backwards, trying to put some distance between myself and the advancing monster.

Raising my hand in desperation, I threw a fire grenade. The fireball exploded in the Handyman's face, engulfing it's frame in fire and causing it to wail in pain. Bringing up the revolver, I shot it again and again, my thumb working the hammer each time until I was rewarded with the click of the hammer falling on an empty. This was it, I was out of ammo, and running out of time.

"SAM!" Looking down to the street below, I saw Elizabeth throw something toward me. I caught it out of instinct and realized it was my sawed off shotgun. Somehow, my bag had come loose during the fight. Standing, I leveled the shotgun and thumbed both hammers. I squeezed both triggers, blasting the glowing jar and utterly destroying the heart inside.

The Handyman let out a groan before it fell, toppling to the street below and crushing a cart in the process. I let out a sigh of relief as I reloaded all of my weapons. That done, I hopped back down to the street and was immediately greeted by Elizabeth. She was holding my rifle and my bag.

"Sam, that was...impressive," she said.

"That sucked ass," I answered before kicking the Handyman in the head. I really, really was starting to hate this place. Taking my stuff from Elizabeth, I readjusted everything before looking at her again. I'd just seen my life flash before my eyes while getting throttled by a cyborg. All of that worry I'd had earlier about the effects of time travel, none of that seemed to matter anymore. I was alive, and I didn't care anymore.

"What?" she asked when she saw me looking at her. Rather then answer, I placed my hand on her cheek and kissed her. Her eyes went wide for a moment, but then closed as she wrapped her arms around my neck. After several moments, we broke apart in order to breathe. Her face was flushed red.

"That was...umm," she started. I simply stuck out my arm and offered it to her.

"Would the lady care to accompany me to the club?" I asked. She stopped stuttering and smiled before she looped her arm with mine.

"I wouldn't mind at all, Mr. Roberts."

 **And cut. Another chapter down. What did you guys think? Read, review, leave a pm, or ask a question or ten. Do that, and I'll see you all next time.**


	9. Good Time Club

**Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter. So yeah, I kinda got distracted, and another long wait was the result. But fear not, I have a new chapter here for you, so please, don't take my head.**

The entrance to the Good Time Club was alright, I guess. It had kind of a gentleman's club/theater feel to it. What made it unnerving were the warning signs that all stated that anyone who wasn't a Finkton employee would be shot on sight. There was also another golden statue of Fink himself, but that was just weird without saying. Then there was the sign on the club itself.

 _ **'Sam Roberts audition today!'**_

"I'm liking this less and less," I said as we walked up to the door. We entered into a wide round room, with the words Good Time Club centered around a clock, which seemed to be off with a pair of extra hands. Maybe it was just me, but Fink seemed to have some kind of obsession with clocks, or time in general. It wasn't until we stepped a little further into the room that I noticed the pool of blood on the floor in front of a glass box containing a vending machine.

Looking above the box, I realized that the reason the clock had looked strange was because there was a mustached man in a Columbian uniform hanging from it's face. The word 'sacked' was written on a sign hanging from around his neck.

"Ah! Roberts, my boy! You know, the best kind of interview is the applicant doesn't know he's being evaluated! But, I've watched you since the lottery and I've got to say...you're a brute! And in times like this, I could use a brute!" came Fink's voice over an intercom. I looked at Elizabeth, who looked back at me.

"Oh for the love of...what do you want, Fink?" I asked.

"Why, labor unrest is coming, Roberts. Now...Fitzroy has the jungle all riled up," he said, and my eye twitched at his racial undertone, "and a man like me could have use of a young gunslinger like you."

"If this is what he does to his former employees, I don't think you should go work for him," Elizabeth said, looking up at the body. I have to say, I was inclined to agree with her. Keeping my revolver cocked and at the ready, we made our way up the stairs to what had to be the main room of the club.

We were on a balcony overlooking a large runway style stage and several booths. Off to our left was an unattended bar. Hanging over the stage were the words Fink MFG in large neon green letters. The fact that the place was deserted only served to put me on edge more.

"Let's find the gunsmith and get the hell out of here," I said. Above the stage, the neon sign went out and a screen lowered before showing Fink's face.

"Now, now, all I ask is that you finish what you started, Roberts. Wouldn't want to disappoint the other applicants!" Fink said, starting in on the intercom again. Oh, I so did not like the sound of this.

"Our first candidate is a veteran of Peking. Now, what's that they say about old soldiers?" I rolled my eyes as Fink chuckled at his own joke. "Frankly, my money is on you. He's something of an old hand at handling explosives. Only man I know who hasn't lost a limb while handling them...yet." A spotlight came on and focused on a curtain rising at the center of the stage. I holstered my revolver and unslung my rifle, prepared for whatever was about to come through.

Several men came running out onto the stage, along with a Fireman. They were all armed with machine guns or revolvers like the one I had. The Fireman looked up at me as I looked back at him through my rifle's scope. I fired the first shot, which he barely managed to avoid, the bullet skimming the edge of his flaming armor.

And then, all hell broke loose.

"FIRE CLENSES!" he screamed before he began lobbing fireballs toward me. The balcony railing I had been standing by was turned to splinters by the hail of gunfire which followed. I dove into cover behind a wall, holding the rifle straight up and down like a soldier at attention as I waited for an opening so I could return fire.

"Sam, look out!" Elizabeth yelled from her position of cover behind a table. I looked and realized that the men had fanned out and climbed up to the balcony with me. They were trying to outflank me, and I wasn't about to have that. Leveling my rifle, I picked them off one after another. I'd aim, a head would appear in my crosshairs, I'd squeeze the trigger, work the bolt, and then repeat.

The firing pin fell on an empty chamber just as another fireball exploded by the wall, tossing me to the floor. Scorch marks were all over the place, and I was starting to worry that this guy would burn the whole place down if he was allowed to. I needed to put him down, and fast. Sliding a new clip into the rifle, I stood up against the wall and waited for the next fireball to explode.

I came out from around the corner and threw a bolt of Shock Jockey. Instantly the flaming armored man locked up as electricity coursed through his body. I wasted no time in lining up the scope with his head and firing. My fingers flew nimbly, working the bolt again and again until the rifle was empty. The Fireman stumbled backwards a few steps from the onslaught before he exploded in a brilliant gout of flame, his entire body turning to ash in the process.

I lowered my rifle and took a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. We were alive, and unharmed. Well, at least for the moment. We weren't out of the woods yet. Knowing that, I loaded a new clip into my rifle. I was burning through ammo for it a lot faster then I liked, and would have to switch to my revolver soon.

"Surpassing all expectations my boy, keep it up!" came Fink's voice. I fought the urge to plug my ears and hum. This guy seriously did not know how to shut up.

"This young go getter is a former devotee of Lady Comstock, but without the old gal, they don't quite know what to do with themselves," Fink continued.

 _I bet it's a crow guy! Come on, twenty bucks says crow guy!_ Not now, conscience.

"Picked this one up at a job fair, for a song," Fink finished. A puff of smoke appeared on a large crate sitting in the center of the runway portion of the stage. The figure in black stood to it's full height and leveled his sword, pointing it straight at me.

 _Crow guy! Called it, pay up!_ I leveled my rifle back at him, lining up a shot with his head. Just as I pulled the trigger, he vanished in a puff of smoke and feathers. A crow's screech came from my left, and I turned just in time to bring my rifle up and block the downward swing from his sword. The force of the impact sent the rifle out of my grasp and skidding well beyond any point of recovery.

I back peddled, avoiding the wide arcs he was swinging with his sword in an effort to gut me like a fish. It didn't last as I tripped and landed flat on my back. The Crow appeared above me, his sword held high and posed to stab downward and end me once and for all. This was it, I was going to die, impaled by a wanna be klansman with a sword and a serious obsession with crows.

A bottle suddenly shattered on the back of the Crow's head, leaving him stunned and dazed. I saw my chance and took it, drawing my revolver and fanning the hammer as quickly as I could. The gun bucked and spat fire four times as I shot him in the gut at point blank range. He stumbled backwards before falling, landing spread out over the coffin on his back.

I got back to my feet, looking in the direction the bottle had come from as I broke open the revolver and began to reload it. Elizabeth was looking back at me from her hiding place, sending a nervous grin and a half wave my way. Say what you will, the girl had an arm, there's no doubting that. Snapping the revolver closed, I held it up and at the ready as the lights dimmed.

"Now, enough of the opening acts! Your true rival is an expert in the automita. Wants to replace all our security with machines. I'll give the old boy credit though; it would be fewer mouths to feed," Fink said as the crates on stage began to break open, revealing turrets. I wasn't overly worried, until the spotlight focused on the large crate that the Crow had appeared on top of. The wooden box fell apart, revealing a Patriot.

Oh come on! That's just not fair. I zapped the mechanical George Washington with a bolt of Shock Jockey before it could open up with it's chain gun. Next, I focused on the two turrets on the stage, hitting them both with Possession. Both of their warning bells rang, and they opened fire on the Patriot. When it's joints finally loosened up, the killing machine turned and began to fire back at the two turrets, leaving me to focus on the three flying turrets that had flown into the room.

They weren't overly hard to deal with, just more of an annoyance then anything. I finished them off quickly with a couple well placed shots from my revolver. As I reloaded, I heard mechanical steps clanking their way up the stairs. The Patriot's head was missing, and a good portion of it's torso was Swiss cheese, but it was still very much active.

"Sam!" I turned, just in time to see Elizabeth toss me my rifle. I caught it with ease before zapping the machine again. It locked up before it could open fire with it's chain gun, and I shot it a few times in the center of it's chest. The bullet's tore through the gears and other bits of machinery there, and the Patriot locked up before falling over under it's own weight.

"Congratulations, Roberts! You know, when your name was first passed to me, I wasn't quite sure you were the man for the job," Fink said as confetti fell from the ceiling and fountains of sparks shot from the edge of the stage. I just reloaded my weapons as we made our way down to the ground floor, on edge for another form of attack.

"But now, I can say with certainty that I was quite wrong," the tycoon continued. Oh my...seriously, did I need to draw it for him in crayon?

"I'm not interested in your job, Fink!" I yelled.

"Now, now, I know all about your little job for Fitzroy, but, do you really want to take her offer over mine?"

"Every day of the week and twice on Sunday," I replied without hesitation.

"Do you know how many people would kill to be head of Fink Security? You're a tough nut to crack, Mr. Roberts. A tough nut! But I promise you this: I will get what I want." There was a certain way his voice settled that left me on edge. He didn't sound like a childish brat who was determined to get his way, he sounded like a man who not only was willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, but often saw it done.

Elizabeth and I made our way back stage and into a stairwell which led down into the basement. Here, we encountered a pair of guards, a man and a woman, both wearing Columbian uniforms. They never saw it coming as I shot them both in the head without a second thought. I had to admit, it was beyond frightening just how cold I had gotten when it came to killing.

"Look, Chen Lin, cell number nine," Elizabeth said, pointing to a chalkboard with a list of names next to a list of numbers. Well, at least now we knew where to look. We turned, only to find that our way forward was blocked by a locked door. Elizabeth wasted no time in going to work on picking it.

"Are there people like Fink in the future?" she asked.

"They're not as bad as he is. Laws got put into place, things like that. Men like Fink are often remembered with disdain more then anything else," I answered.

"But there are still people like him."

"As long as there are two people on Earth, someone's always going to be trying to get a leg up on someone else." Elizabeth got the door open and we found ourselves in a room with a large incinerator. There was a sign, which designated this as the disposal room, along with a stack of newspapers, books, bottles, and signs for Chen Lin's gunshop.

The next room had an old style film projector and a viewing screen set up. Behind the projector was a raised platform with a chair and table with a few sharp tools on it along with a pool of blood. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd been doing in here. As I looked over the tools, the sound of the projector coming to life reached my ears. I turned and found that Elizabeth had turned it on out of curiosity.

Displayed on the screen was the grainy black and white image of an Asian man bound to a chair. He looked rather bruised and battered, despite the quality of the picture. I couldn't help but frown even more as I watched, nor could I ignore the feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. Something told me we were going to be lucky if we didn't have to carry the gunsmith out.

Opening the next door led into a long hallway. Before we could take a step forward, we were hit with the smell. The whole place just smelled rotten, like an open sewer and a pile of corpses on a hot day.

"What is that smell?" Elizabeth asked, reeling back a little and covering her nose with her hand.

"Ain't no sanitation department down here," I answered as I stepped forward to a box of old fashioned metal shackles and picked up a set.

"They treat them like animals," she said with horror and disgust. All I could do was shrug as I dropped the shackles back into the box before heading down the hall. The cells were large, yet bare rooms with a drain in the center and a matress or two thrown down in the corner. Each one had a body in it. All of them were badly beaten, a sign that the guards had probably gotten too rough with them.

"What could someone have done to get locked up in a place like this?" she asked.

"There doesn't need to be a reason," I answered coldly. Judging by the state of these prisoners, I was seriously not liking our chances with Chen Lin. Finally, at the end of the hall, we found it; cell number nine. Elizabeth went to work on the lock immediately, getting it open with ease.

As the door swung inward, I could tell immediately that this cell was different from the others. For starters, it was larger, much larger complete with an observation area over the main room and everything. There were steam pipes lining the walls and a fan in the ceiling. Overall, you could defiantly tell that this was where they put VIPs and other special people.

"Roberts, you're a lion," Fink's voice said over the intercom, "but you can't really blame me for looking after my own interests, can you? Now I know Fitzroy has come calling, but I think you'll find your business with her has come to an end. Lions walk with lions, Roberts, not hyenas!" Okay now I really, really did not like how that sounded.

We went down three flights of stairs total before reaching the bottom of the cell. The floor was a white tile, the kind you'd find in a lab or a bathroom. A light flickered at the entrance to the cell itself, which was dark in a very creepy fashion. The blood trail on the floor didn't help matters either, nor did the single light switch that was illuminated on the far wall.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered as I crossed the room and slammed my fist into the switch. I was hoping, praying, pleading that we weren't going to find what I thought we were going to find in here. A spotlight activated over my head, illuminating the center of the room.

"Sam.." Elizabeth said in horrified whisper. I turned to find a half circle of tables, a body slouched in a chair in the center of the tables, a massive pool of blood on the floor.

 _He swings and he misses._ Fuck you conscience. I sighed as I stepped forward, ignoring the blood I was getting on my boots as I spun the body around. The gunsmith was so badly beaten that his face was almost unrecognizable. His eyes were black and blue, not to mention swollen shut.

"We're too late," I said in a depressed as his head slumped back from the motion of being moved.

"Fink. This is what he meant," Elizabeth said. I didn't answer as I turned the gunsmith's head one way and then another, looking him over. There was no doubt he was dead. The body was cold, he'd been like this for hours.

"So what happens now?" she asked. I sighed again as I placed my hands on my hips.

"I don't know. I suppose we could find another airship, let Fitzroy keep the _First Lady_ ," I answered. I was more thinking out loud at this point then anything. In truth, I didn't really have a plan anymore. Without Chen Lin, there was no airship, without the airship, there was no way out of Columbia. Unless you counted jumping, and I wasn't really in the mood for that.

"No," Elizabeth said in a tone of voice that made it clear things weren't about to change. While I had to admire her passion on getting to Paris, I could help but point out the obvious.

"Dead is dead, Elizabeth," I said.

"Dead is dead," a male voice said, echoing my own. I jumped and drew my revolver, aiming it at the twins who were standing in the entrance to the cell, illuminated by the light that had been flickering earlier. Robert was holding a coin aloft, although it was turned so that only he and Rosiland could see the two sides.

"I see heads," Rosiland said.

"And I see tails," Robert added.

"It's all a matter of perspective." I slowly lowered the gun, but kept eying the two.

"Okay...how does this help us?" I asked. The twins looked from the coin to me.

"What do you see from this angle?" he asked.

"What..."

"Dead," she answered.

"And this angle?"

"Alive."

"Sam, the body..." Elizabeth said. I looked from the twins to the body. The air around it was shimmering as a crack appeared in thin air. This was that same thing I had seen in the Tower, the portal that Elizabeth had opened to the actual Paris. Looking through the crack, I could see the room. The same room, only different. Chen Lin, the blood, all of it gone, replaced by crates.

"It's gone," I breathed.

"It was never here to begin with," Robert said. Realization dawned on me as I realized just what I was looking at. A doorway, a path to another world.

"Another Columbia," I said in awe.

"A different Columbia," Elizabeth stressed.

"The same coin," Robert started.

"A different perspective," Rosiland finished.

"Heads."

"Tails."

"Dead.

"Alive." God dammit I hate it when they talked like that.

"We have to go through...to this other Columbia but...how?" Elizabeth asked, directing the last part toward the twins.

"It's like riding a bicycle," Robert said.

"One never really forgets," Rosalind added.

"One just needs the courage to climb aboard," Robert finished. With that, the light above the twins flickered. Their forms flickered with the light, as if they were holograms being projected by it. Then, they vanished, leaving us alone with the dead body.

"Those two get creeper every time I see them," I said after a moment of silence. I doubt Elizabeth heard me, as she was so focused on the Tear.

"Sam, if we go through this...I don't know if we'll be able to come back," she said. I looked at the hole in the fabric of reality with almost childlike awe. Alternate realities, the multiverse, things like that had helped forge me into the sci fi fan I was today. And now, to be standing face to face with the reality of it? Consequences be damned, there was no way I was passing this up.

Snapping open my revolver, I replaced the spent casings before I snapped it closed again. With a practiced twirl, I returned the weapon to its holster.

"Superpowers, gunslinging, time travel, might as well add dimension hopper to the list," I said.

"But...what about you? Your time, your home?" she asked.

"I made you a promise," I said as I reached out and took her hand, "and that's something I intend to keep. Do it." Elizabeth threw out her free hand and grunted with effort. The Tear opened and then spread outward in all directions. As soon as it enveloped us, I felt like I was hit in the face with a sledge hammer. I fell to my knees, my hands clenching my head as I briefly went blind.

Images rushed through my head. The sound of classic rock playing on a radio, the bumping of a jeep as it passed over a rocky road, my cousin looking back at me from his spot in the driver's seat as he shook me awake. Then there was a loud cracking sound, the sound of screaming, and then, darkness.

I snapped my eyes open, finding myself on my hands and knees. Elizabeth was beside me, her hand on my back and her face filled with worry. Shaking my head, I realized that my nose was bleeding.

"That was...unpleasant," I said as I pushed myself to my feet and wiped the blood away with the back of my hand.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Ears are still ringing a little, but I'm alright. Did we make it through?" I asked, looking around the room. The changes that had been made to the cell were drastic. It wasn't a dark and gloomy torture chamber, but rather a well lit storage room.

"There's no blood, aside from, you know," she said, motioning to the drops that had fallen from my nose to the floor.

"Something tells me one dead gunsmith isn't the only thing that's changed," I said as I looked over the stuff that was in here. There were several weapons crates, all of them marked as having been seized to do the owners being Vox sympathizers. A mask of Abraham Lincoln's face with devil horns was on the desk, which I found a little strange.

As we started back up the stairs, I realized that I could hear shouting. It wasn't a guard or two, but rather the dull roar of a crowd. Getting back to the hallway, I realized why the noise was so present. The walls of the cells had been replaced with bars, making them actual holding pens. And they were packed full of people.

People of all backgrounds, all colors, young and old, all of them were on the bars and yelling. They all had red somewhere on them, be it a red sash or some red paint smeared on their clothing or bodies. As we walked back up the hallway, they began screaming at us. Some were yelling profanities, while others held their hands out through the bars, begging us to set them free. I took Elizabeth's hand and pulled her along, eager to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Back in the room with the projector, everything looked the same. The only difference was the noticeable lack of blood around the instruments of torture. The disposal room, on the other hand, had changed drasticaly. Gone was the newspapers and other bits of contraband. In their place were huge piles of Vox propaganda that were being shoveled into the flames.

"Something tells me Chen Lin being alive isn't the only thing that's changed," I said.

"I don't think you can change something like that and have everything else stay the same," Elizabeth said. I shrugged and we continued onward. It was as we were getting close to the back stage area that we encountered them, the two guards I had shot on the way down here.

The thing was, they weren't dead.

Blood was running freely from their noses and ears, and their forms flickered. The woman was standing, although barely, and clutching her head, while the man was laying on the floor and rolling back and forth.

"What do we do now?" the woman asked, her voice echoing like she was in some kind of mystical void or something.

"I HATE myself. I'm sick. SICK! SICK!" the man ranted, his voice also echoing.

"What...what's wrong with them?" I asked, taking care not to get too close to them.

"They remember," Elizabeth said solemnly.

"What?"

"Being dead." I looked at the two of them with a new found horror. They were trapped somewhere in between this world and the one we had left. The concept of being both dead and alive, it's something I couldn't even begin to fathom. It was because of that I raised my revolver and cocked it, aiming right between the woman's eyes. I couldn't bring myself to leave someone in that kind of hell. Before I pulled the trigger, I hesitated.

"Will they get out of it?" I asked.

"With time...maybe," Elizabeth answered. I looked past my gun to the woman I was aiming at. She was still mumbling to herself, holding her head and rocking back and forth. Based on her state, I doubt she was even aware of our presence. Finally, I eased the hammer forward and lowered the gun. I couldn't do it, not when there was a chance they could get out of this. In this hell I had found myself in where it was so easy to kill, it was good to see I still had restraint.

"Let's go," I said, leading the way up the stairs into the back stage area. We stepped out onto the stage, expecting the club to be empty. That is, until a spotlight shone down on us.

"What is going on here, Sansmark?!" Fink's voice roared over the intercom, "as head of my security, I suspect you'll want to find out how these two slipped past your men and WHAT THEY WERE DOING IN THE BASEMENT!"

"So I take it the job's been filled?" I called out. A few men in Columbian uniforms with clubs rushed the stage. I drew my skyhook and met the leader with the blades spinning, burring it in his shoulder. He screamed as blood sprayed before I kicked him backwards off the stage. Drawing my revolver, I shot his two companions down before they even had a chance to face me.

My shield flared as it took the full impact of a bullet. Turning toward the shooter, I found myself facing a man with a mustache and a cowboy hat using a carbine. I leveled my revolver and fanned the hammer, emptying the weapon into him. He fell backwards onto a table behind him, his body sprawled out with four growing patches of red all over his midsection from where I had shot him.

The whole club fell silent as I broke open the revolver and let the spent casings fall to the floor. Elizabeth stood next to me as I loaded new rounds, looking over the carnage I had just caused.

"Sam, that man you shot. In the other world he was the one on the clock," she said. I looked closer and realized she was right. That was the guy that had been hanging in the front of the club when we first got here.

"Poor bastard can't catch a break, can he?" I said as I snapped the revolver closed. Elizabeth shook her head, but otherwise stayed silent. With that, we left the Good Time Club and headed back into the Plaza. Going back the way we had come in was blocked, so we were forced to head back to the gun shop by going the long way around the square.

Unfortunately, we walked right into a Columban military check point.

Bullets were flying before I even realized what was happening. It was by sure instinct that I found myself taking cover behind a wagon as a hail of lead tore into the other side. Elizabeth found cover across from me behind a barrel. I unslung my rifle and waited, trying to get my pulse back under control while looking for a lull in the fire to take a shot.

"Sam, Flak Cannon!" Elizabeth yelled. I looked at her in confusion. Flak Cannon? We weren't on an airship, what did we have to worry about anti air for? I got my answer when I heard a high pitched whistle, followed closely by the wagon I was using for cover exploding into a thousand pieces. My shield failed as I was sent sprawling in the street, my head ringing.

Looking toward the source, I saw a man wearing a suit of armor heft a rather large gun and aim it at me. Swearing, I scrambled to my feet and ran for cover as he began lobbing grenades at me. Explosions tore through the street, doing more to disorient and scatter the enemy rather than hurt me. I found myself with my back pressed against a post, holding my rifle straight up and down as I took a few quick breaths before aiming.

The armored man had broken open his launcher and was loading it with new ammunition. I lined up the scope's crosshairs with the slit in his helmet and squeezed the trigger. His head jerked backwards, and blood sprayed out the bottom of his helmet before he toppled backwards and I ducked back into cover again, both proud and not believing the shot I had just pulled off.

Slinging my rifle again, I made a mad dash through the disoriented but recovering men. Reaching the armored suit I had just killed, I scopped up his weapon before swinging around and leveling it at the checkpoint. The solider closest to me recovered and took notice of me, his eyes going wide as he realized what I was aiming at him. Neither he nor his companions got a chance to react as I squeezed the trigger again and again until the weapon was empty. Explosions tore through the checkpoint again, only this time, they had causalities.

With an exhausted gasp, I let the launcher fall back to the ground. After all of this, Paris had better be worth it. Elizabeth rejoined me, and we headed into the gunsmith shop. The first thing I noticed when we entered was how quiet it was. Apparently I wasn't the only one, as she looked at me with a confused expression.

"Do you hear anything?" she asked. I shook my head before motioning up the stairs. Near the top, where the shrine to Buddha had been last time was a shine to Comstock. I paused as I regarded this. Elizabeth and I shared another look before we continued on up to the open area where the machines had been last time.

Only this time, there were no machines, just a single man acting like he was operating machinery.

I watched as Chen Lin stood there in the middle of an empty room, spinning an imaginary crank. His form flickered, and I realized that blood was flowing from his nose and ears. Just like the guards, Lin was being effected by the crossing somehow.

"This isn't good," I said as I regarded him.

"He's like those guards," Elizabeth said as she walked around him, eying him from different angles.

"This is...beyond my area of expertise," I said. Apparently, Lin must have heard me, because he suddenly jerked upward.

"Who are you? Speak up, very loud with all the machines!" he said in a loud voice.

"Uh?"

"Wait downstairs with Mrs. Lin, very dangerous!" he continued. I looked at Elizabeth, who looked back at me. We shrugged at the same time before starting back downstairs. At the Comstock shrine, we found a white woman with dark hair standing with her hands folded in prayer.

"Excuse me, maim. I'm looking for Mrs. Lin," I said.

"I'm Mrs. Lin," she said, looking up toward Chen Lin with a worried expession.

"No I mean..." I paused, remembering all the other things that had changed with the crossing, "Right. Your husband seems a bit out of sorts."

"They took Chen's tools. What's he got without his tools? Maybe if he could work again..."

"Mrs. Lin, can you tell me who took your husband's tools?" Elizabeth asked.

"Goddamn police," she answered bitterly, "took them and locked them up at the impound in Shantytown." As Mrs. Lin turned back to her shine, I shared a look with Elizabeth before nodding my head in the direction of the stairs. We started down them quickly.

"Is she right? Would having his tools back fix his mind?" she asked.

"Hell if I know. Either way without his tools we don't have guns," I said.

"So, Shantytown?"

"Shantytown." I remembered seeing the entrance to a place called Shantytown on the other side of the square. As I led the way there, Elizabeth slipped her hand into mine.

"Did you notice, Lin had a bloody nose," she said.

"Yeah, I noticed. Seems to be going around," I replied.

"I'm not so sure coming here was a good idea," she said. I gave her hand a squeeze.

"The plan hasn't changed. We get the tools, then we go to Paris," I said. She smiled and squeezed my hand back. After all, it was just a few tools. How hard could it be to get a few tools?

 **And cut. That's it for this time. Like I always say, hopefully the next one will be out quicker, but you know how that goes. Remember to read, review, make theories on Sam and what not, and I'll see you all next time.**


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